


House of Cards

by Tinyshot



Series: Silver and Steel [5]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Conspiracy, F/M, Fluff, Heavy Angst, Post-Game(s), Self-Harm, Sexual Content, Smut, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-07
Updated: 2017-06-17
Packaged: 2018-07-12 18:45:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 39,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7118098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tinyshot/pseuds/Tinyshot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur Maxson had his life figured out. Planned ahead, with the enemy of mankind defeated and his beloved Sentinel finally at his side. He thought he could take on the world.<br/>It was a lie.</p><p>His trials had only just begun, and this time, he is alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Emperor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **The Emperor (IV)** is the fourth Major Arcana card in traditional Tarot decks.
> 
> Leadership. Power. Waging war. Confidence in beliefs, solid foundation. Self-control. Planned out actions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fifth and final part of the series. Each chapter is named after a Tarot card, with their meaning in the summary.

The world looked almost peaceful.

From high above Anna couldn’t see the grime and dirt of the wasteland. Couldn’t see the destruction and desolation or the bones and bodies that littered the ground.

This area must be old Maryland, but she wasn’t sure. Could still be New Jersey… but they had been flying southwest for a while now. It had been almost a week since they had left the Commonwealth. They had had to make a wide arc around the Glowing Sea, flying for an entire day over the ocean.

Kells had explained to her that the radiation storm, always raging over the Sea, would be highly dangerous for the sensitive machinery on board.

They could fly over it. But he’d rather not.

As far as she could tell, there was another ‘Sea’ over New York, the grave of eleven million. It figured. Another arc, another day. She spied the Statue of Liberty from the command center, half destroyed. A tsunami would have followed the nuclear blasts so close to the water.

Wind blew over her, ruffling her short hair gently. This high up it was even colder than usual. Winter was still harsher in the north, but she suspected the climate must have changed a bit since her time.

It was chilly and Anna shivered, looking down from the forecastle. Despite the cold, it was too beautiful to go back in yet. She didn’t want to leave.

She didn’t know how long it would be before they reached D.C. Or how long it would be before the Prydwen would be on the move again. She wanted to savor this moment.

When heavy footsteps approached her from behind, she smiled.

“There you are,” Arthur whispered, stepping up behind her. His arms closed around her, his lips pressed gently behind her ear.

“You found me,” smirked Anna, putting her cold hands over his. He wrapped his arms protectively around her stomach.

A few days ago Anna had Cade remove her IUD. She was going to marry Arthur after all. Even though in Cade’s personal opinion she was too old to bear children, she had smiled politely and ignored him.

As soon as that was done, Arthur had all but dragged her into his - their - quarters. He had taken her fervently that night, multiple times, each time spilling his seed deep inside of her, and he had done so every night after.

She smiled softly. Anna knew it was very unlikely that she would get pregnant right away, but he could hope. She wouldn’t stop him.

She shivered again. Arthur immediately shrugged off his coat and wrapped her in it. It was warm from the heat of his body. Heavy, protective, safe. It was pretty much an extension of his own body by now.

“How long before we reach D.C?”

“Should be this afternoon,” said Arthur, nuzzling into her hair, “Kells had a messenger fly ahead to get word to the Citadel.”

“Do they know yet?” she asked quietly.

“No,” answered Arthur, understanding what she meant. Her proposal at the Castle. Him agreeing to it.

It wasn’t very traditional… but then again, neither of them were ordinary people.

They had yet to announce the news to the crew. So far only Ingram, Kells and Cade knew. Arthur wanted to arrive at the Citadel first, so his people, all the people affiliated with the Brotherhood of the East Coast, could be there when it happened.

Anna thought it was unnecessary. But Arthur was a sort of a prince of the Brotherhood or something. And she had acknowledged that herself by presenting him with Excalibur, after the Arthurian legend of old.

His marriage was, apparently, a big deal. She still didn’t really know what the deal was with the whole Maxson name. She would need to ask Quinlan.

The Proctor was sure to be shocked, she mused. It was just that people said ‘Maxson’ with so much… reverence. They were saying it like it was something obvious. As though she was supposed to know all about why it was so damn important.

Maxson. _Anna Maxson_. It did sound nice. It had a strong ring to it. But it also meant that she would have to give up her other name.

Lester was Nate’s last name and it still felt wrong to give it up. It was the last piece of her that was still his. It meant destroying the last connection to him, to the old world.

She hadn’t had the heart to do it when she had crawled out of the Vault over a year ago. She hadn't gone back to calling herself ‘Anna Morneault’. It was the last thing connecting her to the past. She wasn’t sure if she was truly ready to sever that thread yet… and for Arthur Maxson of all people.

The man was an _asshole_. And she knew it.

But somehow she had ended up loving him, and he - her. _What the shit._

 

For the first time in over a year, the Prydwen was descending. It was a weird feeling. It reminded Anna of the drop towers in the old theme parks, but slowed, stretched out. Not quite the airplane feeling though. This was… different. There was no forward thrust. Just… really slow falling.

She sighed, looking at herself in the murky mirror. Anna wasn’t a very self-conscious person. She didn’t really care what people thought of her. But now her image reflected on Arthur as well. He was the leader, the idol, the living legend. His image was carefully constructed and cultivated over the years.

She was sure she was going to ruin it all in half an hour.

The ‘what did he see in her’ whisper was familiar to her. Anna had been hearing it behind her back for quite some time since she had become Arthur’s lover. It took quite a long while for the people to figure out that the Elder was not moving on after getting what he wanted. She was here to stay in his bed and in his heart.

Dusting off her black flight suit, she fixed an attached shadowed leather pauldron. It wasn’t exactly protocol piece. But she was the Sentinel. No one explicitly allowed Arthur to wear his coat over the uniform, either. But he did it anyway.

The black leather pieces attached to her body over the suit were kind of the same thing. No, she wasn’t really allowed to wear them. No, no one would dare to tell her to stop. Besides, they looked good and made her narrow shoulders and hips look a bit wider. Not that it would really help. The form fitting suit revealed just how little of everything she had everywhere. But it provided some extra protection.

Anna ran a brush through her tangled hair and sighed. There was no point in trying to fix that mess. She wiped her cheeks, not quite sure which spots were dirt and which were her freckles, rubbed her plain brown eyes, annoyed at the barely noticeable web of shallow wrinkles in the corners. Pursed thin lips she had a bad habit of biting.

_What did he see in me?_

He could have had anyone. Arthur was handsome as the devil himself.

She sighed. The whole thing about meeting the Elders and officers of the Citadel was making her anxious and thus unsatisfied in her own looks. But if the Prydwen’s crew was any indication, they would be good people.

“Can you move?” murmured Arthur, gently pushing her away from the mirror. He was trying to get his hair to lay still, but a few rebellious strands kept falling out of line. She giggled. Maybe she shouldn’t have grabbed his hair when he pressed her into the bed not fifteen minutes ago. She wasn’t the only one nervous, it seemed.

“You look great,” she whispered, taking the tiny strand that was falling onto his forehead between her fingers. Fixing it back up, she could sense that he was coiled like a spring. “There is nothing to worry about.”

“I have a lot to tell them,” said Arthur, staring at his own reflection. “It wasn’t the greatest campaign I have ever been part of.”

He looked at her out of the corner of his eye.

“Then, there is you. And the matter of our marriage. I’m sure a lot of them aren’t going to be happy that I didn’t consult with them on the matter. Or even tell them.”

“You think they’ll be opposed?”

“I have no doubt that some of them wanted me to marry their daughters or granddaughters. Respectable names, good lineage, Brotherhood blood. Instead I picked some wastelander.”

Anna chewed her lip for a bit. That kind of hurt. But what did she care?

“Not really,” she smirked, running her hand over his broad shoulders. “The wastelander picked you.”

He finally cracked a smile at that.

Looking in the mirror over his shoulder Anna was stricken by how familiar this whole situation seemed. Comforting an anxious man standing at the mirror, looking into his eyes through the reflection.

Just like on a sunny day over two hundred and eleven years ago. The day the world died. An uneasy feeling gripped her insides. Something was coming, and it wasn’t good…

She pushed her gut feeling away, despite it being right most of the time. Nothing was going to happen. She was the Sentinel. She was to marry her Elder. This was Arthur’s little ‘kingdom’. She was as safe as she could possibly be in this mad new world. No bombs were going to drop this day, nor any other day after.

Anna was just feeling guilt again, remembering Nate for the second time today. It didn’t help that he and Arthur - and Danse too, if she would be completely honest with herself - had so much in common. Military men, powerful, commanding and confident, with that dark hair, strong features and no-nonsense attitude…

Yep. She had a type.

“I’ll make sure to be charming.”

“Uh-huh. Just… leave Freedom Fighter in the locker, would you.”

“Ugh. Fine.”

He paused, squinting suspiciously at her reflection. Perhaps she agreed too fast...

“And Deliverer too.”

“Damn it, Arthur.”

 

The old airport field was surprisingly clear of debris. If she had to guess, everything salvageable had been torn apart a long time ago. Most of it, probably, went into the construction of the Prydwen. She recalled Kells saying something about that.

A small group of people were already waiting for them as they walked down the ramp. A paladin in full armor, an older man in power armor with different paint job on it, and an elderly man in fancy robes. A couple of knights too, bodyguards most likely. She paid those no mind.

Anna had had Arthur tell her about the Citadel leadership before they arrived. Tristan, Casdin and Rothchild. The Paladin-Commander, the other Elder and the Head Scribe.

Arthur went to meet them, with the Proctors trailing behind. Anna couldn’t really do anything else but join them.

“This must be the new Sentinel,” the other Elder, Casdin, gave her a blatant up and down stare, scowling. “Doesn’t look like much.”

Anna shot him a murderous glare.

“You better watch it, Elder Casdin,” chuckled Ingram, stepping back, “she is a vicious one.”

“So I’ve heard. A Sentinel challenging her Elder? That’s the spirit.”

Anna was confused now. _What?_ Casdin approved? Or what did the older man mean by the whole thing?

“Ingram,” interrupted Arthur, turning to the redhead, “I want you to oversee the Prydwen’s maintenance while we go to the Citadel. I have an announcement to make.”

The knowing look in the Proctor’s eyes was apparent. She smirked.

The Head Scribe looked puzzled and frail. Anna wondered just how old the man was. Arthur said Rothchild was one of the original people who crossed the continent with Lyons. He must be ancient.

They departed from the air field, leaving the safety of the Prydwen behind. The crew of the airship was smaller than it used to be, with many killed and many more still remaining in the Commonwealth, but the group following them was still quite large.

Anna felt uncomfortable. Pretty much every other officer fell into small talk, sharing news and stories. She wished Ingram was here.

Rhys was pointedly ignoring her. He was on duty guarding her, and he shook his head when she tried to start a conversation with him. Tristan was talking quietly with Arthur, a good five paces ahead. The Head Scribe was busy listening to Quinlan’s rambling. Casdin was telling Teagan and Kells some wild supermutant tale.

She figured she might stick to the last group. Casdin seemed to be made of the same stock as the Proctor and the Lancer-Captain. He couldn’t be that bad.

“... and then the Behemoth’s head got just blown off into the orbit. I’m telling you, worth every nuke.”

Casdin grinned, noticing her.

“You ever killed a Behemoth, Sentinel?”

Anna already knew the type of person this Elder was. Like Kells, he wouldn’t treat her with respect until he felt she deserved it. She had to prove herself to him first.

“I sure have,” nodded Anna, matching her pace to the group, “during the very first mission Elder Maxson gave me.”

“Hmpf,” the doubt in Casdin’s eyes was apparent.

“I was manning the vertibird minigun. We got a few good shots at the beast before the ‘bird couldn’t take any more hits and had to drop us off. We finished the Behemoth on foot.”

“Who ‘we’?”

She grit her teeth. Kells shot her a warning glance.

“My sponsor. Former Paladin Danse.”

Casdin’s face changed in an instant. The scowl returned, the deep set eyes darkened. He turned away.

“Hope it was worth it. The kid was a good soldier.”

Anna’s eyes widened. Kells coughed.

“He was a synth, sir,” said Captain quietly.

“I know. Still, a shame,” responded the former Outcast.

Biting her lip again, Anna wondered if she would find an ally in Casdin. Perhaps. Or perhaps not. Casdin wasn’t a man to be trifled with, for sure. He obviously had a few reasons to butt heads with Arthur, but it seemed that he respected him.

 

To her surprise, the metro rail still worked. At least, a part of it. Boston’s metro was a demolished ghoul-infested ruin. More paladins and knights joined the escort inside the Adams Air Force Base, and the metro cabin was way too crowded with all the power armor clad soldiers around them.

When the cabin came to a halt, a soldier behind her swung forward with inertia, jabbing her in between her shoulder blades with some metal edge of his armor. She cursed loudly, jerking away, only to bump with full force into Tristan’s back.

“Damn it,” whispered Anna, rubbing sore spots, “I should have worn my power armor.”

While the soldiers slowly climbed out of the cabin through the narrow doors, Anna felt a familiar gloved hand find hers. She gave Arthur’s fingers a squeeze without looking at him.

Just a little longer. And then everyone would know. No more hiding, no more pretending.

She let go of him and proceeded to step out. Anna didn’t know where this ‘Citadel’ everyone was talking about was located. It wasn’t anything pre-war that she had heard of.

Looking around the ruins of the capital city, Anna noted that the ‘pencil’ was still there, jutting out from behind the broken and collapsed buildings. The Washington memorial had seen better days. The fact that it was still standing was pretty miraculous.

The streets of D.C. were a lot quieter than those of old Boston. No supermutants came charging at them, no raiders shot from the buildings. But Anna still gripped the handle of Deliverer. After a few minutes of arguing with Arthur, she had insisted on bringing her weapon.

He was carrying Excalibur on his back. She couldn’t help but smile when her eyes landed on the rifle. It suited him.

She wasn’t in immediate danger, she agreed with him on that. Any of these paladins or knights would die to protect them. Still… a good sniper, like Mac, would be able to pick out all of the leaders of the Brotherhood easily, as long as he had a good vantage point.

When they reached their destination a little over an hour later, Anna’s jaw dropped. She elbowed Kells.

“That’s… You didn’t tell me the Citadel was the _Pentagon_!” she whispered to the Captain. The man shrugged.

“I thought you knew.”

The Pentagon was an all but legendary building. Anna had seen it through the window, passing on the freeway before the war. A couple of metro stations, Pentagon and Pentagon City, even had it’s name on it. Back before the war she wondered what was like inside.

She was about to find out.

The giant gate of the Brotherhood fortress was lifted by a crane. A working crane… the scribes sure could make stuff work when they wanted to.

The procession entered a wide open courtyard where a lot of people were standing, awaiting their arrival. Arthur was far ahead, flanked by Casdin and Tristan. The crowd erupted in cheers when they saw him. The Elder had returned, victorious.

Anna didn’t know how much the regular soldiers knew about the extent of the other Commonwealth factions’ involvement… Hell, she didn’t even know if the officers that hadn’t flown with the Prydwen knew. She sighed.

She never thought she would miss her ‘hero’ days.

These people didn’t know her. She didn’t know them. But she was their Sentinel now. Anna wondered just how many people would assume that she had earned her title on her back.

The thought made her clench her teeth again. She wondered for a second if it had been a huge mistake to come here. To come back to the Brotherhood at all.

Arthur walked up a set of rusty metal stairs, and the officers followed him. Anna did too, since there was nothing else she could do. They made it to the vantage point, raised above the pentagonal courtyard. Everyone watched Arthur with bated breath. He stood tall in the front, the picture of a powerful leader.

“Brothers and sisters,” he begun after a short moment, clasping his hands behind his back as usual. “Today we bring victory from the Commonwealth.”

He paused, letting the crowd cheer. The level noise was pretty impressive, with paladins and knights banging their fists on their power armors. The still air of D.C. was making it even louder.

“Our fight was not easy, and many lives were lost to the enemy - the Institute. Our people shall not be forgotten. Their names are written in the Codex, their honor unquestionable. It is up to us to carry their banner. To make sure their sacrifice was not in vain.”

A silence fell on the Bailey, stark after the previous noise. Anna could hear her own breath.

“Yet we found ourselves not only enemies, but allies too. The Minutemen of the Commonwealth were steadfast friends of our order; they commanded the locals’ trust and respect, and they knew the territory better than anyone. It was a natural alliance, and when the time came, our united forces crushed the Institute from the face of the earth.”

Anna was grateful to him for giving the Minutemen the credit they deserved. But she had a feeling that he wouldn’t have done it if not for-

“Their General was an imperative instrument of our victory, for she was also the Paladin of our order. A vault dweller, much like the Wanderer that I’m sure many of you still remember, Anna Lester made our triumph possible. For her loyal service and immense contribution to the cause she was promoted to the rank of Sentinel.”

And here it was. Arthur looked over his shoulder at her, motioning with his hand to come closer. Even from up here she could hear the whispers in the crowd. Anna swallowed a lump in her throat as she stood next to Arthur. They were taking a leap of faith here.

But at least they were doing it together.

“And it is my greatest honor to announce to you, brothers and sisters,” he paused, taking a deep breath, “that she is also soon... to be my wife.”

Arthur turned to her, taking her hands in his. Hers were trembling ever so slightly.

The stunned silence hung in the air for full five seconds as the people realized what had just happened. Then it erupted.

 

“That was something,” grumbled Tristan, pouring himself a glass of bourbon, “you could have sent us a warning.”

The early winter night fell on the Citadel. After the massive commotion in the Bailey, most of the officers had had to try to pacify the troops. Some of them were ecstatic. Some yelling accusations. Some thought it was a bad joke. Some tried to break into the vantage point, to what end Anna didn’t know.

Nor did she want to know.

Anna sighed heavily. The shitstorm wouldn’t be over soon. The Prydwen’s crew stood with her, of course, but the people of the Capital Wasteland were not as open to accepting a dirty wastelander as their revered Elder’s wife.

Anna expected resistance and shock, but not hostility. Something was wrong. When there was a shot fired, Arthur had barked at Rhys to get her to safety. The young Paladin had immediately dragged her away from the courtyard, ignoring protests and kicks to his power armor. But she wore no armor herself and had no protection from stray fire. It was reasonable, but a bit humiliating nonetheless.

Anna and Rhys had holed up in a place called ‘the Den’ until the others came looking for them.

The Den seemed to be some sort of lounge. It had nice couches, quite a few terminals and fully stocked bar. There was additional storage room in the back, and Anna suspected it was the reason Rhys brought her there - it was a defensible position, and with two sets of heavy doors they had a better chance to survive should things go south.

Thankfully, nothing bad had happened. The troops were just… _excited_ , as Tristan tactfully put it. She shook her head and took a sip of whiskey.

Then she stared at her glass. Maybe she shouldn’t drink. Whether or not she thought she could be pregnant, there was a slim chance that she already was. They were trying after all, and Arthur was relentless.

Putting the glass down, she tucked her legs under her bottom.

“If I had sent a warning, everyone and their mother would have known before we landed,” Arthur sounded a bit hoarse after prolonged shouting in the courtyard, “this isn’t sort of news that can be kept under the rug once someone knows. I had to be here when it hit. I needed to be the one to announce it. Mitigate the damage.”

“Fair enough,” sighed the Paladin-Commander, “I assume the West has been notified?”

He was looking at Rothchild. The elderly Scribe nodded.

“As soon as I was able, I sent a transmission. No response has come yet.”

“As to be expected. They’ll be chewing on that one for days.”

“No question about that,” muttered Kells. He took off his Captain cap and left it on the table, “I’m sure they had different plans.”

“Well, Arthur is his own man now. They can’t change that,” Casdin sounded annoyed, but it seemed that was just how the man always talked. “The pawn became the king.”

“You do know that pawns can’t actually become kings, right? Only queens.”

“Just shut up.”

Anna yawned, closing her tired eyes. The buzz of conversation and a nice heavy dinner were making her sleepy. She hadn’t been sleeping well before the arrival. She was nervous about a lot of things; things that were waking her up every other hour, then keeping her awake for hours at a time.

How was the Commonwealth doing without her? How were her friends? How would the Minutemen deal with the change in command so soon after coming back from the brink? What would the Railroad do now that the Institute wasn’t making any more synths? Was Brandis up to leading the Commonwealth chapter so soon after his recovery?

A hand tapped her lightly on the shoulder. Anna opened her eyes to see a scared young Initiate, barely old enough not to be a Squire anymore. The boy seemed to be intimidated beyond measure at the number of high-ranking officers in the room.

“S-sentinel Lester, if you wish, there is a room prepared for your use…”

“There is no need for that,” Arthur’s voice made the boy jump. He straightened up immediately, shaking slightly.

“S-sir?”

“She will be staying with me in the Solar. Dismissed, Initiate.”

The boy ran. The Head Scribe pursed his thin lips, looking disapprovingly at Arthur.

“You should refrain from sharing a room with your fiancée until the wedding, Elder. That sort of behaviour only encourages fraternization within the ranks…”

“Yeah, right,” snorted Ingram, almost spilling the contents of her glass on the floor. “Sorry, Rothchild, but they can’t just take back all the banging they already did. It’s not like you can ask them to stop now.”

“Thanks, Ingram, for just... pointing that out,” groaned Anna. The Proctor smirked. She had come back from the Air Force base along with a few scribes and lancers a few hours after the announcement. She seemed happy enough to hand the constant repairs and maintenance of the Prydwen over to other people.

She had had a year with barely any breaks. Anna thought Ingram deserved a medal.

“Besides,” Casdin slapped the Head Scribe on the back, almost knocking the old man on the floor, “the sooner there will be more Maxsons running around, the sooner the West will be off all of our asses.”

Anna sighed. They really should take it easier on procreation topics. The people seemed to be too interested in the state of her womb.

“I probably should get some rest,” sighed Anna, “this was a long day.”

“I can show you the way,” said Rhys, quietly. He started to stand up, but Arthur's hand was on the Paladin's shoulder in a second, keeping him down on the couch.

“No need.”

Anna could feel the eyes of everyone in the room on her and Arthur. She forced a smile.

“It was my pleasure to meet you. Elder, Paladin-Commander, Head Scribe,” she nodded to the Citadel leaders. They nodded back.

Arthur motioned for her to go. She hurried out of the room, feeling little pin pricks in her feet from sitting on them for too long.

In the shadowy hallway her hand found his as they were making their way to the Solar, and Anna saw a small smile on Arthur's lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter theme: [Two Steps From Hell - Victory](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hKRUPYrAQoE)
> 
> I'm going to be updating every Monday. Stay tuned.
> 
> Also, check out some [beautiful artwork](http://tiny-shot.tumblr.com/post/145439957222/a-beautiful-piece-that-i-had-commissioned) for this story by [Maxsonbooty](http://maxsonbooty.tumblr.com/).


	2. The Chariot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **The Chariot (VII)** \- sudden change, unexpected turn of events. Riot. Being pulled apart in different directions. Uncontrolled emotions.

The bitter cold of the early spring was merciless, especially in buildings without heating, and Anna was normally cold to begin with. But just then, she was warm. Sharing a bed with Arthur was always warm.

Anna turned, wrapping her arm around him. How weird. It felt… furry. Arthur had pretty thick body hair, but this was, like, very furry.

She opened her eyes to find Dogmeat wedged in between their sleeping bodies. The shepherd opened his eyes and wagged his tail enthusiastically.

“Hey… what are you doing here, boy?” she whispered, “that's not nice. Get down, you're so dirty…”

“Actually, mum, some of those Scribe fellas - didn't see them writing anything, but they can call themselves however they want - have been nice enough to wash your furry friend before letting us in. They even brought breakfast for you and the sir.”

Codsworth hovered into the bedroom from the study, juggling some pots and cups on his appendages. He didn't really have a face, but Anna imagined that old Mr.Handy would be smiling, finally doing what he was made to do.

Then her still foggy mind clicked.

“What did you call Arthur?”

“The sir, of course! I assume congratulations are in order. I've heard the talks around this place. Mum, I'm so happy you were able to move on… I just wish sir Nathan and poor Shaun had the chance…”

She shushed at the robot, as Arthur was stirring.

“Alright, Codsworth, if you could set the breakfast for us in the study…”

“Already done, mum! They were really particular about which one was for you and which one was for the sir, by the way. I like it when people are being specific…”

The chattering woke Arthur up. He opened his eyes and was obviously confused to find a very happy dog breathing in his face.

“What?..” he was groggy from the sleep. His eyes focused on Dogmeat who barked happily and licked him in the face. Arthur groaned and wrinkled his nose, “how did he get in here?..”

“Codsworth said some Scribes let them in.”

“Ugh… is he going to do that every time?”

“Afraid so. C’mon boy, get down. This isn't nice.”

Dogmeat whined for a bit, but being pushed away by two sets of hands, he finally gave up, sliding down on the floor. He still put his head up on the edge of the bed, though.

With Dogmeat gone, Arthur dragged her closer and pressed her against his broad chest.

“There's breakfast…”

“It will still be there in five minutes,” whispered Arthur, nuzzling into her neck. His hands started to wander around her body.

Pressing her thighs together, Anna could still feel slick from the fluids that leaked out from her during the night. She sighed when Arthur's fingers ran across her nipples, gently tugging and rolling.

She smiled and wound her fingers into Arthur’s tangled hair, scratching his scalp lightly with her nails. He closed his eyes, a sigh escaping his lips. Anna smirked and flipped them over, straddling his hips. Steadying herself with her hands on his chest, she ground against him only to find him hard already. His hands slipped up her hips as she lowered herself on his cock.

Sitting up, Anna gasped, shuddering. In this position he a spot deep, deep within her, and it hurt so good. Arthur bounced her up with his hips easily, eliciting gasps and quiet moans from her, his fingers circling her clit. She fell forward, bracing her hands on either side of his head and started moving, quickening the pace. Arthur raised his head from the pillow, catching her nipple with his lips, his hands still on her thighs, pulling her down on his cock forcefully in rhythm with her.

He grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her down suddenly, flipping them over again, but this time, he was on top. She was filled with him once more, and Arthur tore into her with an unexpected ferocity. Anna’s hand snaked down her body, finding her clit. Her pussy twitched randomly in response to his urgent pace. He was getting close, she could tell by his labored breathing.

A dozen more deep thrusts and she felt his hot seed spilling inside her. Arthur gasped, falling forward, catching himself with one hand to avoid crushing her under his body. After a few seconds, he reached down, still joined with her, and pushed her hand away, taking over.

His fingers were rough, strong and demanding, and soon he had her gasping for breath and moaning his name as she came, clamping down on his softening cock. Only then did he slip out, dropping on the bed beside her. It groaned under his weight, and Anna rolled onto her side to face Arthur, her head finding a comfortable spot on his hard shoulder.

She closed her eyes, about to drift off for a few minutes, waves of heat still flowing through her body. Arthur nuzzled into her hair, pulling her closer.

A sharp knock on the door made them both open their eyes and curse. Quickly detaching himself from her, Arthur jumped up. Anna made an annoyed noise, and he threw her an apologetic glance. He pulled on a t-shirt from the locker and reached for some pants as well.

“Hello again! I’m afraid they are not up yet but did you want anything? I can pass the word...” Codsworth’s voice could be heard pretty clearly through the half-closed door.

The butler gave Arthur enough time to hastily pull on the pants and throw his coat on. He stepped out of the bedroom as soon as that was done.

Anna washed up in the small bathroom attached to the bedroom and cleaned herself off before putting on her uniform. Her other things were probably still up on the Prydwen. Either that or they were delivered to the study, that was already occupied.

Being the Elder certainly had its perks. Maybe not that many on the Prydwen, but the Citadel was another matter. Arthur had a lot of space for himself, along with a private shower. And it was hers now too.

She could think of a few things to do in there…

When she was passing through the bedroom again, she noticed that Dogmeat had moved his front paws on the bed while she wasn’t watching. Anna chuckled.

“I can see that, pal.”

He sniffed in response.

Stepping out of the room, Anna saw Tristan standing by the table. Arthur was demolishing his breakfast while the Commander talked, barely chewing anything. Anna noticed that he had that habit. Always in a rush, too busy to actually taste the food. One day she was going to tie him down and spoon feed him something good.

“Please see to it before noon. We would need to make sure this… _incident_ doesn’t spread. People are still agitated from yesterday’s announcement.”

Arthur nodded abruptly and gulped down a scalding hot tea, making Anna cringe as she watched.

“Will do. Do you think I should bring the Sentinel along, Commander?”

Tristan rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

“Perhaps it would be for the best. People should get used to seeing her by your side… on the other hand, she may want to stay separate from you and gain a bit of reputation on her own.”

“Or maybe you could ask me?” Anna was glaring at the Paladin, who raised his hands up in a pacifying gesture.

“I meant no offense, ma’am. But you surely can see my point.”

Anna chewed her lip. Tristan was presenting very valid options. She could head out to the Capital Wasteland on her own, with Dogmeat at her side. And just explore and wander like she used to during the first months back in the Commonwealth.

But that could take her pretty far. Back in the early days in the Commonwealth Anna was free to go where she wanted, for as long as she wished. But now she had some things to do as the Sentinel. The higher the rank, the shorter the leash, Danse used to say. And Arthur could use some help...

“I’ll tag along,” said Anna, finally. “The Wasteland is not going anywhere.”

“Sadly, true.”

 

While Anna was eating her breakfast, Arthur was washing up. He put on his flight suit and pulled the coat on top. Dogmeat had crawled back on the bed while they were out in the study. Arthur chuckled, taking a mental note to lock the door to the bedroom from now on.

He whistled, getting the dog’s attention.

“Come on, buddy. Don't keep Anna waiting.”

Dogmeat stretched out on the bed even more.

“You really like to ignore me, huh.”

He barked. Arthur shrugged, smiling. Despite the minor discontent among the troops, the future looked bright. He would get to spend the entire day in his future wife's company. Maybe they should start some preparations. He read that pre-war weddings were rather luscious affairs. He may not have gotten to propose to her by the old customs, but maybe they could get married by them.

Anna would, of course, say that it's stupid. Waste of resources, waste of time. But he wanted to do it. For both of them.

She was still finishing up her breakfast when he was done. Tristan had excused himself, running to put off some other fire. The Paladin-Commander was responsible for the Army branch of the Brotherhood. After helping the Lone Wanderer, Daphne, to complete the Project Purity, Tristan had risen through the ranks, making it almost to the top of the hierarchy.

The Commander had a portable communicator attached to his armor, much like the ones Arthur had seen Anna and Preston Garvey wearing over their Minutemen uniforms. Ready at a minute’s notice.

The Army was the largest branch and the rowdiest. Back in the Commonwealth Arthur had to sort through all the crap the soldiers were doing, since he had to take over responsibility for the Army brothers and sisters. He was more than happy to hand that shit back over to Tristan. The Commander sure had an ungrateful job.

Danse used to help him with it when he was there, but… Arthur frowned, pushing the thought away. The synth was out of his life, out of Anna's life. She never did tell him what was she doing for the three months after the Insitute battle.

As soon as she put down her fork, they were on their way.

Arthur had a lot of ground to cover today. He had to make sure that everything was in order in the Citadel and surrounding territories under Brotherhood protection, including Megaton and Rivet City. Despite refocusing the order on the old principles of keeping technology from the hands of unworthy, Arthur wasn’t going to sever the ties to the settlements that Lyons’ leadership had yielded.

They were useful. So long as they stayed that way, he was not going to recall the troops completely. They were a great supply of food and scrap, and a supply of fresh recruits. Kids that grew up watching power armor-clad soldiers protecting their puny village from raiders were going to imprint that into their young minds.

Years later some of them would want to join. The long-term benefits of the arrangement were great… for the Brotherhood. The same would happen in the Commonwealth, though Minutemen were the loved local heroes there.

Still, they weren’t as flashy. Power armor and vertibirds are way more impressive. Arthur was sure that they would get a fair share of recruits from the Commonwealth too.

And if he had to personally show up every now and then, it was not a big price to pay.

They didn’t have a large escort this time. It was just him, two Knights, Harris and Bryce from the Citadel chapter, and Anna and Rhys. It may not have been the greatest use of the young Paladin’s abilities - a glorified bodyguard - but Arthur couldn’t really trust anyone else with Anna’s protection. Not after Danse.

 _Damn it_ , he was thinking about him again.

Yesterday’s announcement had created a lot of unrest. Arthur ordered Rhys to take Anna away, and soon after that, some shots had been fired. People started fighting over their opinion. Arthur had expected some shock, some disagreement, but this was outright hostility. He didn’t understand.

However, by staying calm and collected he was able to avert the impending storm. It could have been much worse.

He had to make sure they knew - none of their opinions mattered there. The few that dared to open fire were detained. Those who raised their fists on their brothers and sisters punished. The kitchen could use some help, and the outside of the Prydwen needed the rust scrubbed off.

Radstorms were not gentle to the hull.

Arthur’s throat was still chafing a little from yesterday’s yelling. He was sure that the worst was over until Tristan came to him with the news of some soldiers fighting with the Prydwen crew members at night. The former dared to call Anna a ‘wasteland whore’.

That couldn’t stand. He ordered Tristan to question the detained soldiers, as well as the Commonwealth crew that rushed over to defend their Sentinel’s honor. Execute the instigators. Exile the rest.

He needed to show that his future wife was to be respected, by any means necessary. Though it was nothing she should know about. Arthur knew she wouldn’t approve of his methods.

But she never questioned their effectiveness. She had a good heart, yet she could be ruthless, too. Vicious, as Ingram noted yesterday. Arthur himself had a few new scars to remind him of that.

He glanced over his shoulder, watching her with deep fondness. Anna moved around the Citadel’s Bailey with Dogmeat, chatting to people, smiling, being herself. People were subconsciously drawn to her, as always.

She looked pale, though. Maybe it was just the morning light, but maybe he should send her to the infirmary. But then again, Arthur would never want to make her seem weak or helpless. Especially now, as she needed to build up her reputation as the Sentinel.

After going through the Citadel, they set out for Rivet City. Arthur had Excalibur out and ready. They probably weren’t in any danger, but they were a small group.

On the way to the ‘city’ they came across a few ghouls, nothing major.

When they reached the old aircraft carrier, Anna stumbled. Rhys grabbed her by the shoulder and pulled her back up on her feet before she could drop to the ground. She laughed and rubbed her chest, slightly embarrassed. Bryce sneered. Arthur shot the Knight a dark look. The man withered under his gaze.

Anna smiled at him, and Arthur could clearly see that something was wrong. He walked up to her and whispered.

“We should go back.”

“What? No! Why?”

“You don’t look well. You need to get to the infirmary.”

“Stop fussing… I’m just feeling a bit off, that’s all.”

“Anna…”

“I said I’m fine,” she snarled, grasping her musket tighter. Her fingers were shaky, “stop it.”

Arthur sighed. She was as stubborn as ever. Well, if anything, Rivet City had some medical facilities. Maybe she would be able to visit it without anyone taking notice.

While he was speaking with the local leaders, making sure to be seen by the general populace, Anna disappeared in the bowels of the old ship with Rhys. Arthur only hoped she went to get some help while those two idiots that were guarding him weren’t watching.

He was only half-listening to an old man, droning on about winter supplies. His attention returned only when he learned that some of it were being stolen. Arthur shrugged and told the man that this wasn’t something he or his soldiers could help him with. Perhaps a more subtle agent could.

Perhaps he should ask Anna to talk to the guy.

She returned with Rhys, carrying some junk she bought at the stands. Adhesive, some screws, some metal scraps. And a high-powered scope, that she said she needed to send to the Commonwealth.

“A gift?” asked Arthur.

“Repayment,” smirked Anna, correcting him. Arthur recalled a scrawny mercenary guy that was tagging along with Anna when she didn’t take Danse with her. That one was a sniper.

She seemed better… maybe it was just his imagination?

Anna talked to the old man in hushed tones and promised to take a look around. Though she didn’t have her network of agents around here, it was a good start for her.

They left the rusty ship soon after. Rivet City was a major trade hub, so the roads to the other settlements from here were usually clear and safe. Though sometimes there were raiders, hoping to jump a sleepy caravan, Brotherhood patrols usually kept the scum at bay.

A clanking sound and loud barking behind Arthur made him turn around. He froze.

Anna collapsed to the ground, dropping the bag she was holding. She grabbed her stomach and groaned, her eyes screwed shut in pain.

Rhys was kneeling beside her, while Bryce and Harris talked among themselves, and there was no doubt in Arthur’s mind they were making fun of her.

He would make sure those two would be licking the Prydwen clean from the inside out. But for now, all that mattered was her. Arthur knelt beside Anna, taking her hand.

“What’s wrong?”

She gasped, clutching her chest.

“It burns… it burns so bad… like acid inside…”

 _Acid? Poison?_ No, there was no way… he’d be suffering too. Although, they didn’t really share anything during the breakfast. But still, there was no way... Was there?

Collecting her in his arms, Arthur glanced over to his bodyguards.

“The tour is over for today. We’re going back to the Citadel.”

“But sir, your duties…”

“Can wait.”

“Paladin Rhys can take her back, sir. The settlements-”

“Screw those settlements,” he said. As if he ever cared. “We’re going back. Now.”

Harris took off his helmet. The disgust on Knight’s face was now apparent.

“Elder Maxson, this is beneath you. You are neglecting your duties because your _pet_ decided to faint? You-”

The attack came before the Knight finished talking. Arthur uncoiled like a spring, flying up from his knees, hitting Harris square in the face with all his strength, multiplied by anger.

“It was a mistake to take your helmet off, bastard,” growled Arthur as the Knight’s body was falling down to the ground. Harris didn’t move, and Bryce backed off in silent horror.

Arthur was fighting the urge to kill Harris on the spot. But instead of the man’s head, he kicked the helmet with full force, sending it flying away. The pain in his toes had somewhat refocused his brain, still clouded with rage.

He pointed at Bryce. “You. Take out his fusion core. When he crawls back to the Citadel, throw him into the cells and let him rot.”

Anna groaned again, and Arthur nodded to Rhys. The Paladin threw a signal grenade. Arthur now regretted not taking a vertibird from the beginning. After being cooped up in the air for so long, it had felt good to walk on the ground again.

 _Damn it._ He should have taken the vertibird.

Anna writhed in pain almost all the way back. She bit through her lip but didn’t seem to notice the trickle of blood. He wiped it with his finger. She had a high pain tolerance, but this… whatever it was, it was beyond even her.

“We’re almost there,” Arthur whispered quietly, “should have visited the medbay, huh?”

“Shut. The fuck. Up.”

She was sweating bullets. Arthur took a deep breath. She’ll be safe, Cade could take a look at her. He didn’t trust Citadel medics, not right now.

How could a year change so much? A year ago he wouldn’t have doubted the people were ready to jump off a cliff without power armor if he told them. Was it because he was gone for too long? Or was it because of Anna, and only her?

Or maybe there was something he didn’t see.

When they landed on the Citadel wall, Anna stopped making any sounds. She had to play tough… as much as she could, but Harris and Bryce had already seen her. Arthur regretted not bringing along his more trusted crew members.

The Lancers stayed silent but had worried looks on their faces. Arthur was grateful for that much. He carried Anna to the medical bay, trying to avoid too much attention. He did a pretty poor job of it, as she was happy to tell him through her clenched teeth. Soon enough there would be plenty of rumors about the Elder carrying the Sentinel into the medbay, he didn’t doubt that.

Knight-Captain Cade was there, inputting medical data they had come across in the Commonwealth. The medic jumped up from the terminal as soon as he saw Anna in Arthur’s arms.

“Injury? While out on the tour?”

“Unknown,” muttered Arthur, setting her down on a cot, “there was nothing that could have caused any of it.”

“I’ll need to run some tests…”

“Fuck, Cade! Just. Give me. Something!” growled Anna, curling up into a fetal position. The medic shook his head.

“If there is a chance the medicine would react negatively with whatever you had ingested…”

“Ask me. If I. Care. Just. Make it stop.”

“I’m sorry, Sentinel,” quietly said Cade, while he was rolling up her sleeve, “but I can’t. Not yet.”

“Well fuck. You.”

The medic smiled at her. “I’ve heard worse.”

More than anything, Arthur hated feeling helpless. And that was exactly how he felt while watching Anna swear at Cade, clearly in pain. He hoped whatever that was, it would be something fixable.

He only just got her back. He couldn’t lose her, not again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter theme: [Audiomachine - Shadowfall](https://youtu.be/OpD8cW6zd-0)


	3. The Hermit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **The Hermit (IX)** \- wisdom offered and gained. Attainment of goals. Search for the truth. Separation. Loneliness.

Arthur was sitting at his table, checking the reports. Or at least that was the last thing he remembered. He woke up with Cade gently shaking his shoulder. Arthur blinked away the black spots in his vision and moved the arm on which he was sleeping, causing thousands of tiny pinpricks to stab into his nerves.

“Knight-Captain? Is she alright?”

A clock on his desk showed 0247 hours.

“Sir…”

It was a single word, but it contained so much concern that it made him jump up from his seat.

“Cade? Is she alright?”

The medic sat down at his table, and his face was grave. “... for now.”

Cold surged through his body. Familiar, icy feeling. Terror.

“You mean…”

“I ran all the tests I could think of. There is something I was able to find. An unusual strain of… FEV virus.”

“No!”

Arthur collapsed back into his chair. No, no, no. That could only mean one thing - he would have to… _put her down_?

His throat felt so tight, the words could barely come out of his mouth. “Is she… is she going to become a _supermutant?_ ”

Cade shook his head vigorously, noticing his distress.

“No. It’s… different. Unlike anything we’ve ever seen, myself or Head Scribe Neriah. Whatever it is, it doesn’t appear to be turning her.”

Arthur breathed out a sigh of relief, but it was short-lived.

“No, this strain is… unusual. It doesn’t cause mutations. It… well. It destroys them. Destroying any affected organ in the process, as far as I can tell.”

“What?”

“It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen, like nothing in our records. I still have no idea how she ingested it. The toxin is so different from any other FEV strain, it had to be engineered.”

“You mean…”

“I mean,” Cade glanced over his shoulder at the closed door. The doctor lowered his voice almost to a whisper, “that you should be very careful, Elder. I have Paladin Rhys guarding the door at all times I’m not around. But he can’t be everywhere. I urge you to post guards from the Prydwen crew in the infirmary.”

Arthur frowned. He didn’t like the idea of not trusting his own people… but then, it was pretty obvious that someone had tried to kill Anna. They may not have succeeded… yet. But he was not going to let them try again. Cade was right.

“I will give the order. Make sure you work on the antidote. I’ll make sure you are not bothered by anything else.”

“Yes, sir,” Cade paused, and Arthur noticed that the medic was clenching and unclenching his fists, “but Arthur, my boy… you should prepare for the worst. This toxin… it’s a weaponized toxin, and incredibly complex. It’s possible that we won’t figure it out in time. But I will do all I can. We all will.”

It was a long time since Cade had last called him by his given name. Arthur ran his fingers through his hair, causing it to tumble down on his forehead.

“Do what you must, Cade. Keep her alive for as long as you can.”

The medic excused himself and left the room. When he was gone, Arthur took in a slow, shuddering breath. Then he flipped the table with a roar of helpless fury, everything on it crashing to the floor. This couldn’t be happening. Life was throwing him another punch, and this one threatened to finally pummel him into the ground.

 

The night was full of dark dreams and terrors that seemed to continue into his waking hours. Arthur visited the medbay as often as he could. Anna’s sobbing Mr.Handy was with her, as was Dogmeat. Cade had her sedated. She was in a lot of pain, and her constant thrashing could harm her in this state.

Knight Lucia and Knight Adams were on duty the last time he was there, letting Rhys to catch some sleep right there in the medbay. The Paladin occupied another cot, though he wasn’t sick. He was insisting on staying by Anna’s side, and Cade let him.

The situation was worrisome, especially since there was even more discontent among the soldiers. They saw the armed guards in the infirmary as a sign of distrust.

Neriah was hard at work in the labs, and often Cade left the medbay to assist her. But the medic warned Arthur and the guards not to let anyone close to Anna for any reason. Especially with any medication.

Arthur could only watch as distrust and suspicion wrecked the Brotherhood from inside out, destroying five years of hard work. Yet he couldn’t care less, and for that reason, he had another argument with Henry Casdin.

The Outcast Elder insisted that Arthur needed to attend to his duties. The Sentinel isn’t going anywhere in that condition, he said. Which was true...

“Unless she goes up. Or down,” darkly noted Casdin right after, “opinions on the matter are rather split.”

“That’s why I can’t leave,” growled Arthur, “I have to be here.”

“It’s not like you’re helping, boy. Let Cade and Neriah have some peace and quiet to work on the damn antidote! You breathing on their necks all the damn time doesn’t help!”

“I have to ask you to attend to the settlements this year in my stead, Henry. I can’t leave the Citadel.”

“Stubborn as ever, I see.”

Casdin turned around and marched away, clearly annoyed.

Anna once told him that she was sometimes worried that it was all a dream and that she would wake up in the past. Arthur _wished_ it was all a dream. He wished he could wake up. But he couldn’t.

And so it was that he was taking out his aggression on a punching bag in the Bailey. Better that than waiting for the next soldier to say something offensive about his Sentinel, and beating them to a bloody pulp.

The winter night was cold and early, so no one else was out but a few shivering guards on duty.

He breathed out a cloud of steam that condensed on the strands of hair that fell out of place, turning them silvery. The cold air felt sharp as a blade as he inhaled it.

Arthur didn’t notice Lancer-Captain Kells’ approach until he was very close. He turned to face him.

Kells’ face was grim.

“I just heard, said Kells. “Cade contacted me. I was at the Adams Air Force base all this time. Ingram too. She’s threatening to flay the bastards who did it with her bare hands.”

“That would be merciful compared to what I would do,” muttered Arthur, steadying his breath. Now that he’d stopped moving, he could feel the heat rapidly escaping his body. He picked up his coat and pulled it on.

“I don’t doubt that…”

“Any news from the base?”

“The Prydwen did good. She only needs some minor repairs, some cleaning and little adjustments to the cooling systems. Nothing big. Her performance in the Commonwealth was amazing.”

“You’re saying you’re surprised we didn’t crash?”

“Not exactly that… but I am impressed we managed not to set her down even once for over a year.”

“You mean, we didn’t crash.”

“Well... yes.”

Arthur barked out a short laugh. It didn’t last very long, but he was grateful for the moment of light-heartedness.

“I had something I wanted to speak to you about, Elder. In private.”

“Of course, Captain.”

Arthur gestured towards the entrance, and they walked into the A ring. They passed by the Den, which after the disbanding of Lyons’ Pride was repurposed into the officer's lounge. Laughter and the clinking of glass could be heard from the half-closed doors.

They reached the Solar on the B ring, but Arthur passed it. He was heading for the medbay again. Kells followed him like a shadow.

Rhys was guarding the entrance again. He nodded to Arthur and let him and Kells pass. Inside, in addition to Cade, there was also Scribe Haylen, perched up on a cot neighboring the one Anna was on. Haylen jumped up as soon as she saw the two men enter.

“Elder. Lancer-Captain. I was just leaving.”

The little Scribe never forgave Arthur for exiling Danse, that much he knew.

“As you wish,” said Arthur, letting her pass by.

He walked up to Anna and gently brushed off the hair that was sticking to her damp forehead. Her skin was hot to the touch. Her body was fighting, but if Cade’s prognosis was accurate, she was probably losing.

Cade was not known for his inaccuracy.

Synths, supermutants, ferals. The Institute, the Glowing Sea… it had seemed that nothing could break her. He had brought her to the heart of the Brotherhood stronghold, to what he’d always known as safety, and _now_ she was dying.

It felt wrong. It _was_ wrong. Who could be so desperate to get rid of her? Especially amongst the Brotherhood?

Kells’ hand touched his shoulder.

“The matter I wished to discuss has to do with the Sentinel. And it is rather urgent.”

“Here?”

“Your private rooms may be under surveillance,” Kells spoke quietly, frowning and looking over his shoulder carefully. Arthur shook his head.

“That’s nonsense, Captain, and you know it.”

“Listen to me, Arthur. Back when Owyn Lyons was the Elder, Daphne and Sarah had brought him a sample of the Enclave toxin that was developed by President Eden. It was based on FEV virus. Eden wanted Daphne to contaminate the purifier with it, but she didn’t.”

“You’re saying…”

“I’m saying it could be them. The Enclave.”

The Enclave. The shadow of the past, the government of failure that no one wanted. The enemy, defeated by the order when he was just a child.

“I don’t believe it. They were all wiped out at the Adams base.”

“The Enclave are like radroaches. They always find a way. Ten years is more than enough time for them to have rebuilt some strength. Perhaps they infiltrated the order while we were away in the Commonwealth. The ranks needed to be filled, so this chapter got a bit careless with recruiting.”

“But why Anna?” That was a piece of the puzzle that didn’t make any sense.

“If I had to guess, the poison was meant for you. She must have happened to ingest it during a meal instead. Perhaps it’s better that it was her.”

“What?!” Arthur clenched his fists. The Captain looked grim.

“If you or I or anyone else in the wasteland had taken it, we’d be dead by now. You heard what Cade said, it destroys mutations. She is almost pure human and suffered only minor exposure. She has time for us to save her.”

Arthur collapsed in a nearby chair and covered his face with his hands. Another war? With an enemy that strikes from the shadows? This would be the exact time he needed Anna by his side.

Without her, they’d still be stuck searching for the Institute. Perhaps that’s why they’ve taken her out. Kells thinks the poison was meant for him. Maybe it was meant for her.

“Be careful with what you eat or drink, Elder. They tried once, they might try again. Stick to pre-war packaged food, and only what you’ve opened and prepared yourself.”

“Agreed.”

They stood in silence for a while, watching Anna in her troubled, medication-induced sleep.

“Cade is not sure how much time she has.”

Kells rubbed his chin, thinking. The man walked up to Anna and looked into her face for a long time.

“I have an idea, Elder.”

Arthur looked up so fast that his neck responded with a jolt of pain.

“Whatever it is. Anything.”

“You are not going to like it.”

“Just spit it out, damn it.”

Kells sighed, looking very tired and wary. He eyed Arthur as if worried of an attack.

“There is a former Institute scientist trapped in the Glowing Sea. Brian Virgil. You may remember my report. As far as I can tell, he is an FEV specialist. Even managed to cure himself from that affliction.”

“What?” that was something unheard of. And Kells kept quiet about it all this time?

“Yes, even though I’ve never seen the man, that’s what Anna told me. She fetched the serum for him from the Institute. He is human now… if she was telling the truth.”

“An Institute scientist… what makes you think he’ll help at all?”

“Didn’t I mention that it was Anna who helped him to reverse mutation? He owes her big time. It’s worth a shot. If he is half as good as Madison Li is at his discipline, he might just be the only chance Anna has.”

A former enemy... Yet this one was a renegade. Maybe he’d be willing to help. Arthur stood up, calm and determination returning in force.

“He _will_ help us. Whether he likes it or not.”

“I’d suggest negotiations first, however...”

“Captain,” his voice was strong, “prepare the Prydwen. Let Ingram and the rest of the crew know. We are leaving in the morning.”

“Yes, sir,” Kells looked at Anna’s unmoving body, “what about the Sentinel?”

“I’m taking her with me. I’m not leaving her behind.”

“It may not be the best to move her out of this facility in her condition…”

“Damn it, Captain, would _you_ leave her here? We don’t know who the traitors are and where are they hiding. I have to take her. Prydwen’s medbay is not a match for this one, but it will have to do. I’ll tell Casdin to start an investigation. I’ll see you in the morning, Captain. Make sure the ship is ready to leave ASAP.”

“Yes, sir.”

Kells left in haste, leaving Arthur standing over the cot where Anna slept. He leaned over her and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“We’ll get you a cure. I promise. Just hold on a bit longer.”

 

Casdin was grumbling. Tristan was furious. Rothchild was stunned. The same three that were meeting him just two days ago, on this very same spot, were now seeing him off.

Arthur marched right past them and their words of concern, anger and disagreement. There was no time.

The sun was rising over the Capital Wasteland, and so was the Prydwen.

Ingram, disheveled after a sleepless night, warned him in between curses that without a full maintenance she couldn’t guarantee the safety of the airship, especially when flying into the Glowing Sea.

“Duly noted,” answered Arthur, getting into a vertibird.

“Fuck that, Elder. My honest opinion. We’re going to crash.”

“Get in already.”

“I knew you were crazy,” sighed the Proctor, climbing into the ‘bird.

“Not crazy. Just…” He stopped, searching for the right word. Determined? Reckless? Stubborn? Those didn’t seem to be quite enough.

“In love,” Ingram finished for him. He could tell without looking that the redhead was grinning.

“That too.”

They flew up, docking with the slowly rising airship. Arthur jumped out, leaving the ‘bird behind. After everything that had happened during the past year in the Commonwealth, the Prydwen felt more like home than the Citadel.

Shadows had covered the Citadel since he left. He would deal with them after his return. Hopefully, by that time he would have Anna back to help him deal with the dangers. Fighting side by side, like they were always meant to be.

Arthur walked into his command center, overlooking the bay. The sun was rising with the Prydwen, reflecting off the bay.

“Altitude 9456. Board is green. Engines ready,” he overheard Lancers from below.

“Full forward,” responded Kells.

The bulkheads creaked as the engines started propelling the massive airship north-east. Back along the path they’d so recently traveled.

Back to the Commonwealth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter theme: [Audiomachine - Akkadian Empire](https://youtu.be/xHtnBnKcP_U)


	4. Wheel of Fortune

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Wheel of Fortune (X)** \- the high falls, the underdog rises. Change of luck. Unexpected outcome. Hard to see the light while trapped in the darkness.

Anna woke up with a loud gasp. Cold sweat was running down her forehead.

The dream… the dream had been so real. So real, she still felt strange.

She looked around. The blankets may have been soaked in her sweat but they were soft and _clean_. She’d never seen anything this clean in the wasteland. The air was fresh and cool. The walls were solid, the wallpaper on them fresh and pristine. She could hear the hum of electronics, the news on the TV…

“Oh no. No…”

“You alright in there?” Nate was already up. He smiled at her, rocking Shaun in his arms. Anna stared at him, her mouth falling open. It was like she didn’t have enough air in her lungs to breathe.

“I… uh… Yes.”

No, no she wasn’t. She was living in the year 2288… she was a time traveler, she was a savior, a fighter. She was a widow. She was in love with another man.

This couldn’t be happening. What was real? The life she led before the war or after? Was there ever a war?

Anna slid down from the bed onto unsteady legs. It was all a _dream_. A long, confusing dream. But it had felt so _real_. She had made friends and enemies, she had fought, she had bled, she had almost died, more than once.

And… _Arthur_. Arthur Maxson was… not real? Her heart ached just thinking about it. She shuffled into the living room, brushed off Codsworth’s chattering and dropped onto the couch. The grass outside the window was green, like mirelurk blood. It seemed so foreign now, yet welcome.

She closed her eyes and wept quietly, mourning the cruel world she’d lost, the people that never were. The love that was just an illusion, a trick of her tired mind.

How could her mind make up so much, only to rip it all away?

Codsworth made her some coffee. She noted that he was getting a bit rusty, perhaps it was time to polish the guy. She laughed. Compared to the world she’d just gotten used to, everything around was so pristine.

Anna’s secret terror was realized - it was all a dream. There was nothing left to fear. She turned off the TV set and stared at the black screen, feeling only the emptiness inside her. A bottomless pit...

But at least now she was back. Wasn’t it all she ever wanted? A quiet life. A peaceful life. Her husband, her son. All this crazy adventure never happened… the bombs never fell. They never went into the damned Vault. Nate and Shaun never died.

Nate’s arms closed around her from behind, almost making her jump. She tore herself away from him before she could think and stepped back. Her husband looked confused.

“Sweetheart… are you alright? You seem… off.”

How could she tell him? What could she possibly say? Sorry, hon, I fell in love with two men from a damn dream? So much so that she could still feel their touches on her skin. Remember their eyes, heated, hurt, relieved, happy…

_The long Greygarden night, the silence was only broken by their breathing. They fell asleep fast, exhausted after taking their turns with her. Anna woke up long before the two of them did and watched them sleep. They were so peaceful..._

The place in her chest where her heart once was ached in dull, hollow pain. That didn’t happen. None of it did.

She forced herself to smile, even though she knew it was more of a pained grimace.

“I’m alright. You startled me.”

Nate reached out to her, and it took all of her strength not to turn away in shame. He took her hand and pulled her into an embrace. Anna buried her head into his shoulder to avoid meeting his eyes. He smelled familiar, of Old Spice and freshly laundered clothes and coffee.

Familiar, and yet so foreign now. She had gotten used to the other man’s scent, and he smelled of leather and metal and smoke. Anna could feel her eyes welling with tears again and she blinked them away hastily before they could fall onto Nate’s shirt and give her away. Alert him that she was, in fact, dying on the inside. Wishing not to exist at all.

“I’m so nervous about the speech tonight. You know I’m not that good at public speaking. Not like, you, hon. You are just brilliant.”

“Speech?...”

“In the veteran’s hall? I read it to you yesterday.”

 _Yesterday_. What was yesterday? Which day was yesterday, which day was today? It was so far away Anna couldn’t even remember. She couldn’t recall going to sleep the day before. She lived for over a year inside her own mind, but here it had been mere _hours_.

“Ah, the speech…” She nodded, her mind still blank, “yes. Sorry. I just… I need some coffee.”

“You never were a morning person,” she could hear a smile in his voice. Nate kissed her on the temple, where her hair fell down and it was so long, falling past her shoulders. The ArcJet never happened. She never cut her hair off with Danse’s combat knife.

Arthur had never wound his fingers in the unruly strands. Danse had never pulled on it in the heat of the moment. It was all a lie that her mind had created.

She finally looked up, meeting Nate’s eyes. Anna felt like she had cheated on him somehow, and with two men no less. Even though it was all a dream, she reminded herself. Somehow that dream was unlike any other she ever had. It didn’t get fuzzy as minutes passed by, it was as sharp as a real memory.

 _Danse. Arthur_. It was almost weird how real they felt. More real than Nate, in fact… She quickly detached herself from him and stepped away.

“Actually, the weather is nice outside. I’m… uh, I’m going to sit outside for a while, with Shaun.”

She cringed inwardly at herself. She was running away, hiding from herself and her traitorous mind. _And I know all too well that hiding from yourself is pointless,_ Danse’s voice echoed in her head.

Shaun made some happy gurgling when she stepped outside to sit on a bench beside the house. Bathing in the sunlight, without a fear of some mutated critter coming at them.

Her beautiful baby boy. She would get to watch him grow up. He would never become the heartless abomination. He would never be the Director… he would grow up to be just Shaun. She pressed him to her chest, gently rocking back and forth. It was worth it to come back…

Was it?

_When the Institute is defeated, we’ll talk about it._

Arthur wanted to have children with her. Other children. Her eyes filled with tears again. He wasn’t real. He wasn’t...

A distant sonic boom made Anna open her eyes. A mushroom-shaped cloud was rising over the horizon.

 _Oh no_. They never registered for the Vault… and it was too late.

The nuclear wind blew over them, but this one was different from the one she felt on top of Mass Fusion building. This one… it burned her skin out, it charred her flesh. Blinding white light covered the world, or maybe she was going blind?.. She pressed Shaun to her and tried to cover him with her body in a hopeless attempt to protect him.

There was nothing but pain.

 

“Do you think she dreams, Cade?” Arthur asked quietly. He was sitting by the bed on an uncomfortable chair, reading through some logs he found on the Enclave. Information about the old enemy was frustratingly scarce and accounts varied greatly.

It didn’t make any sense.

“It’s hard to tell, really, sir. Chemically induced sleep is different from normal sleep patterns. Usually, patients cannot recall their dreams afterward even if they had any, so there is virtually no data to be collected.”

“I see.”

“But there are also multiple drugs circulating in her system now, and the combined effect is… hard to predict. Not to mention I can’t even begin to guess what this toxin is doing to her body. All in all… even if she does dream, it can’t be pleasant.”

“There is no way you can wake her up even for a short time?”

“I’m afraid I have to decline, sir. She was in so much pain she was harming herself to distract her own body. I saw blood under her nails and had to investigate.”

“But… why?” Arthur was stunned. Cade sighed in response.

“Our bodies can be easy to fool. We tend to feel lesser pain more acutely if it came after the more severe one. Like you would bite on your lip to cope with a bruise or a fractured bone. Small pain distracts the body, makes it all seem less painful. But there are limits to it, I’m afraid. It was the main reason I decided to sedate her.”

Arthur carefully lifted the covers from Anna’s body and saw deep, half-healed gashes on her arms. It made him uneasy, knowing she did it to herself scratching her own skin open.

Quinlan’s cat made an annoyed mewl when the blanket shifted. Emmett had taken to sleeping on top of Anna. Arthur ruffled his fur but the cat shook off his hand and turned away from him.

“Mr. Arthur, sir.”

Codsworth floated into the medbay, his jet making a quiet humming noise as he moved. “Captain Kells was looking for you. It seems we have arrived.”

 

“NO!” Anna jumped up, hitting her head on the uneven brick wall, “ah, shit!”

She fell back to where she was sitting and Drummer Boy giggled from the corner.

“That’ll teach ya to sleep in the HQ.”

“Shut up.”

Anna carefully detached herself from an uncomfortable chair and stretched. Why was she wearing the Brotherhood uniform? Right… she was infiltrating the Prydwen. What was taking Deacon so long?

That was one crazy dream. A dream inside a dream? A dream inside a dream inside a dream?

How could she ever think, even in a crazy dream, that she’d ever loved Maxson? The man was an _asshole_. He…

_… the foredeck is cold, wind is biting her skin, the Capital Wasteland is down beneath her feet, strong loving hands holding her, assuring whispers in her ear..._

Anna shook her head. A dream inside a dream, of the past that never happened. She’s never been to the Capital Wasteland. What was wrong with her?

Maxson had burned all his bridges when he exiled Danse. She’d left the Prydwen never to return again, and went straight to Railroad HQ. Desdemona smiled at her when Anna told her she was done with the Brotherhood.

“So you’ve finally made up your mind? You saw what kind of monsters the Brotherhood really are?”

“Yeah. I’m in.”

A hand tapped her lightly on the shoulder. Anna turned around, only to find Deacon standing behind her. He was wearing the orange jumpsuit too.

“You ready, Charmer?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” answered Anna, checking her weapons. Deliverer, Freedom Fighter, Pickman’s blade.

She looked at the musket. Even in the half-shadows, its polished steel gleamed. _Danse_.

There couldn’t be a more fitting weapon with which to finish this, and put a stop to the Brotherhood madness once and for all.

A blast shook the old tunnels. Mortar rained on their heads. Glory suddenly fell in down the stairs, bright red blood splattering the walls. She was cursing, still clutching her minigun.

“Brotherhood! Incoming!”

“Oh no,” gasped Des, grabbing a rifle from under the table. “They found us!”

Carrington dropped whatever instruments he was holding and cowered behind a wall. “Oh God, we’re dead, we’re so dead!”

“Not if I can help it,” growled Anna, taking cover behind a crumbling pillar. She gave the crank mechanism a light push, making the handle roll on its own while she took aim.

The loading chamber clicked. Five fusion cells loaded.

A knight in T-60 armor burst through the door in a cloud of brick dust. She aimed for the head while he was temporarily blinded. Red laser fire pierced the cloud, even redder blood and gore splattered the wall behind the body, still propped upright by the power armor frame.

“Boom. Headshot,” said Deacon, reloading his own gun as well.

More were coming through. Anna only needed to glance at Glory to know that she wouldn’t make it. Hatred burned in her chest, bright as a beacon. _Maxson_. Maxson ordered this. He hated synths like Danse and Glory. He wanted them all dead.

How could she ever have thought she loved him, even in a dream? The _Elder_ was incapable of understanding that synths were people… He was a _monster_.

More people came through. None of them survived for long, however. This was Railroad turf, and Brotherhood soldiers were walking into a shooting gallery. But soon none of them were brave enough to walk down those stairs. They were in the tunnels, waiting.

Dropping her musket, Anna went down on her knees beside Glory.

She smiled at Anna, though obviously in pain.

“None of the bastards have made it through, Charmer. You go give ‘em hell, for me, alright?”

“Alright,” said Anna. Tears were about to burst through, but she fought them back. _Keep your hands steady, keep your eyes clear_ , Danse had told her once. If there was ever a time to remember his advice, this was it. She would need her aim to avenge Glory.

“Now, wasn’t there a fight you were supposed to be in?” whispered Glory. “Go... “

Anna could still hear the steps and scrambling in the tunnels. Like rats, she thought. She would be the cat to eat them this time. She held Glory’s hand to the end.

“Wasn’t there supposed to be light?” she whispered, with her last breath. Anna watched her eyes glass over and reached out to close them before rising up.

“Deacon. Let’s go. We’ll attack from the other side, trap them.”

“Good idea. I don’t know how much they know about our trapdoor.”

“Hopefully, nothing. Everybody else, keep your eyes on that door. They might muster up some more courage. Or they might actually run here when we press them from the other side.”

She went for the escape tunnel. This time, it wouldn’t be like the Switchboard. This time, the Railroad wouldn’t run.

This time, the Railroad had something it never had before.

Her.

Anna pushed open the trapdoor. It was quiet, outside, as she and Deacon crawled through the ruins, circling around to the front of the Old North Church. A vertibird was parked nearby, with only a single knight on guard. They dispatched him easily.

“Well, look at this baby. We might actually not need to storm the Cambridge Police Station after all.”

“Maybe.”

At least she wouldn’t have to kill Haylen. Out of all the Brotherhood, she was a good person. Haylen, and maybe Proctor Ingram. She’d miss the redhead… Anna was pretty sure Ingram was not going to abandon the Prydwen, even if she would be exploding around her.

They went inside the church, still covered in shadows. Deacon turned on his Stealth Boy, leaving only a whisper in the air. Seemingly alone, Anna crept through the door.

She recognized the man in charge of the attack. Paladin Brandis, the man she’d saved. She saved him, brought him back to sanity and the Brotherhood and this was how he repaid her?

Or was it another of Maxson’s mindgames? To see if she could kill another friend, after she failed to kill Danse? Or was it a test for Brandis? To see if he was fit for duty, by making him kill his savior?

Anna didn’t think she could hate Maxson any more than she did already. But she did. There was nothing left in her, only rage.

She gave the crank mechanism a push while she took aim. It clicked gently in her ear.

Before she could hesitate, Anna pulled the trigger.

 

“There.”

Anna’s Pip-Boy on Arthur’s arm was glowing bright green in the darkness. The lights on the airship were finicky ever since they entered the storm of the Glowing Sea over three days ago, but they were completely out now.

The markers on the map were haphazardly placed. They were never meant to be used by anyone but Anna herself. It took some time to decipher the meaning of some of them, just random notes here and there, cluttering the screen. They painstakingly checked almost every location on the map.

No sign of Brian Virgil. No sign of anything but deathclaws and radscorpions living in the caves, and an occasional Glowing One. The only people to ever come to visit the renegade scientist were Anna and some of her… entourage.

 _Bunch_ o’crazy _misfits_ , she joked. _‘Why are they all looking at me? Do I look like I know what I’m doing?’_

Truth was, she always did.

Those who ever went with her into the Glowing Sea were immune to radiation. A synth and a ghoul. He heard rumors of her even befriending a supermutant, but he decided to ignore it.

And Danse. A synth, he reminded himself. What a coincidence, she never endangered her human companions with the journey to the most radioactive hellhole this side of the continent.

There weren’t many markers left to check. Arthur never thought there could be so much crap in the Sea to begin with. From what it looked from the outside, it was demolished. Wiped out. Dead.

It was amazing that life would always find a way.

He only hoped that Anna would have enough strength in her to hold on until they find Virgil. And then who knows how long it would take for the scientist to come up with an antidote.

So far Cade and Neriah were able to keep her fighting. They also were doing the preliminary work for when Virgil would be found. Arthur had assigned Madison Li to help them. The scientist had been unexpectedly reluctant to join the effort, but he ignored her protests.

When he wasn’t deciphering the map or attending to the small disputes and paperwork, he was in the medbay.

“Do you intend to lead the ground team again?” asked Kells. The Captain’s voice was tired. It sounded like he hadn't slept for days, and he probably hadn't. None of them had. Kells and Ingram were barely sleeping anymore. Ever since they flew in the Glowing Sea pretty much all the sensitive machinery the ship relied on to navigate was out.

Kells had to pull a double shift, being the captain and the navigator at the same time when the airship’s navigator, Lancer-Sergeant McNamara, had to get some shut-eye.

Ingram was not able to get much rest either. Constantly fighting one failing system or another, getting repairs done in and out of the hull. She looked like a walking corpse in a power armor, only awake on a double dose of Buffout. Just earlier today Arthur had found her asleep, still standing on her feet, a blowtorch and a screwdriver in her hands.

He had called for some knights to carry the Proctor to her bed. While Ingram was out one of the subsystems failed.

The ship was drowning in the darkness for a few hours now, only lit up by an occasional flash of green lighting.

“Yes, I do.”

“Very well. Approaching coordinates.”

They hovered over a small cave, barely noticeable in the creepy green twilight that reigned over the region all day and all night.

Arthur climbed onto the main deck to retrieve his suit of power armor. Taking off his coat and folding it on a small table beside the docking station, he opened the suit and got himself inside.

Lighting up the flashlight on his helmet, he grabbed Excalibur from the weapon rack and fixed it onto the magnetic lock on the back of his armor. Final Judgement would suit him better if he would have to fight with a deathclaw again, but he wanted to have the gauss rifle with him nonetheless.

Picking up his gatling laser as well, he marched up to the vertibird dock, where Rhys and Lucia were already waiting. A Lancer in a hazmat suit waved at them to get inside the ‘bird. No one else was on the deck. One of the first orders he’d given was that nobody should get exposed any more than necessary.

While they were descending down to the cave, all of them going to the ground shot up some of Neriah’s modified Rad-X through the suit’s valves.

 

As the haze of battle rage faded, tears prickled her eyes as she stood over the bodies. Blood, so much blood. She recognized their faces now that the haze of fury was gone. This was the Lancer that took her up and down the Prydwen for the longest time. This was a Knight that slept on a bed next to hers. This was an Initiate she and Danse had recruited from a Commonwealth settlement.

All dead because of _him_. The Elder.

And because of her. How was she any better than that maniac? At least she wasn’t afraid of getting her hands dirty… She pulled the trigger, she slashed the throats. She killed them all. Death followed both of them wherever they went. It could only end in bloodshed between the two of them. One of them would die.

Maybe both.

She hated herself for ever letting him close. For ever sharing her body with him. It felt… sick.

Tinker Tom was twitching nervously as he tried to figure out the vertibird controls. Still thinking that the Institute was watching them. Maybe they were. Maybe they weren’t. Deacon had managed to stalk her throughout the Commonwealth before she joined the Railroad, and she never had any idea.

“Alright, we are all ready for takeoff!”

She climbed into the ‘bird and took a hold of the minigun. Just in case.

“Oh dear God, we’re going to die,” muttered Deacon, clinging to her for dear life as the vertibird spun in the air, almost out of Tom’s control. But Anna wasn’t afraid. Anna was calm. Cold.

Empty.

If she were to die now, she’d be fine with it. She’d be in good company.

_Glory. Danse._

No, she couldn’t die yet. There was Maxson to deal with. And then she wouldn’t care.

“Could you keep the damn thing a bit straighter? We are approaching the blimp!” Deacon still clung to her arm like she was a lifesaver. Was he afraid of heights? Oh, he was never going to live that down. On the other hand, it could just be Tinker Tom’s flying style.

“Hey man, if you wanna try your hand at it…”

“Nope! Nope, you’re doing great, just a bit straighter!...”

Air traffic control was surprisingly easy to fool. But then again, the people on the damn airship never even locked their doors. Too trusting. Too easy. The time for trust was over two hundred and ten years ago. It was time to wipe out the Brotherhood of Steel. To wipe out this rusted shard of the old, failed world.

Maybe it would get rid of the one stuck in her chest. Maybe then she would feel whole again.

Tinker Tom’s landing was more than a bit rough, but he managed somehow. As they were pulled up into the flight deck, Anna took the Stealth Boy in her hands. She was no master of disguise, and unlike Deacon, didn’t have the advantage of being new here. Plenty of people knew what she looked like. She turned it on.

Anna walked through the deck, with Deacon nodding to the knights on duty. He opened the door and held it open just long enough for her to slip through.

The command center was dimly lit. But there was enough light to see a tall dark shadow against the night sky. Anna heard Deacon swallow a lump in his throat.

“Go to the upper deck. To the left of the entrance, there are stairs to get to the upper levels. The hydrogen tanks are located there.”

“You sure? I mean…”

“No time. Go now. I’ll deal with Maxson.”

“Charmer...” he was concerned.

She didn’t listen to what he had to say. She stepped closer and closer to the command center, only a slight distortion in the air indicating her presence.

Maxson turned around. Anna froze. He was looking straight at her. How?

The light steps behind her stopped. She breathed out a quiet sigh of relief. No, no he didn’t see her. He was looking at Deacon who was right behind her, about to climb to the main deck.

“Soldier,” said Maxson. “I don’t recall seeing you before.”

 _Shit_.

“I’m a new recruit, sir. Name’s Jackson. I’m from the Starlight Drive-In settlement. Thought I’d join in and here I am. Sir.”

“How odd,” mused Maxson, his eyes full of suspicion, “that you would choose the Brotherhood over the Minutemen. That is a Minutemen settlement, isn’t it?”

“Which settlement isn’t this days? But the Brotherhood has all the cool toys. Can’t wait to get me a suit o’ power armor!”

The Elder’s shoulders relaxed, a little. Anna still knew him well enough to recognize that.

“Go on. Dismissed.”

“Sir,” said Deacon, with a vigorous salute. Acting to the end.

Acting was all that stood between him and Maxson’s bullet.

Anna waited until Deacon disappeared on the main deck. Only then did she cock Deliverer. The hammer clicked.

Maxson’s head jerked up.

As the Stealth-Boy expired, she had Deliverer pointed right at his chest, into his heart. It wasn’t really protected by his silly coat. How dumb.

“Anna,” whispered Maxson.

“You killed them,” she said quietly, “at the HQ, you killed them all, my people, your people, and for what? To get to me?”

His eyes widened, he seemed genuinely shocked. “You were with the Railroad?”

He didn’t know. Or was he playing her again?

Her hand was shaking, ever so slightly.

“Anna, please… this is not the only way this can end. Put the gun down and we can talk.”

She clenched the gun tighter. He was not going to distract her.

“You need to die, Maxson. This is the only way the Commonwealth will ever be free.”

“I’m not your enemy, Anna… the Institute is. I would never hurt you.”

Her ribs suddenly stung in phantom pain. What was it?

_… cheering, so loud it deafens her, swift movement, don’t let him catch you. He swings, dodge, dodge now, but it’s too late. He pivots back, and kick connects…_

He noticed her hesitation. Maxson’s movement was so fast she could barely see it. He hit her hand to the side, and the shot came sideways, muffled by the silencer on the barrel. Barely a clap.

No one noticed it through the sounds of the Prydwen’s engines.

She tried to back away, but it was too late. He had her hand, and he pulled her closer. Anna met his gaze.

His eyes were so blue. So familiar. There was no hatred in them, not towards her. He pulled her into an embrace, and she could smell the whiskey on his breath. Maxson was drinking so much for such a young man…

“I love you, Anna,” he whispered, and she almost dropped the knife, but it was too late. The blade slipped under the coat and in between his ribs, sinking to the hilt.

He shuddered, his legs losing strength in an instant. Hot blood gushed out of the wound on both of their suits when she pulled the serrated knife out.

It felt like she was pulling her own heart out with it.

Arthur gasped, losing his grip on her, but still she fell to the floor with him. A red river of blood ran out through the wound, his life washing away. Anna held him, unable to unclench her hands. She watched as red seeped into her fabric of her jumpsuit, spreading quickly, painting her with his blood.

Why did it hurt so much? She wanted him dead.

Didn’t she?

A tear fell onto the blood-soaked chest of the Elder, followed by dozens more. He reached out with a trembling hand to wipe them away, leaving red trails on her face with his fingers.

Her chest felt like a wound being ripped open with a dull, rusty knife. It scraped out her insides, digging deep, leaving nothing behind. For the second time that day she watched a person die in her arms. This one her nemesis, her sworn enemy. The man she loved.

His blue eyes locked with hers before his last breath escaped him.

She still couldn’t move, not even when Deacon tried to wrench her away from the body. Anna kicked him off, not paying any attention. There was noise all around them. Alarm. Cries. Orders. Then gunfire, but she _still_ couldn’t move. Rooted to the place, oblivious to all else. All that mattered was the body in her arms. His blood was soaking her suit, and she shivered at the gust of cold air, coming at her from behind.

And then there was nothing but fire.

 

The pain in her dream was so acute it made her wake up. The clock showed the third hour of the night cycle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter theme: [Audiomachine - Ten Thousand Slain](https://youtu.be/9DQ4DCxAJT8)


	5. The Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **The Moon (XVIII)** \- unconscious, dreams, the hidden world of thought and emotion. People taking action without one’s knowledge. Hidden agendas, secret meetings, plotting.

The pain in her dream was so acute it woke her. The clock showed the third hour of the night cycle. With the assault beginning tomorrow, she needed her sleep.

Sitting up, Anna squinted at the bright artificial light. She had already forgotten what it felt like, to live a life that didn’t retreat under a daily blanket of darkness. The Institute was always ablaze with light.

Cool air hit her burning skin. She was burning up… like in the dream. Was it even a dream? A dream within a dream?

She slipped out from under the covers and walked into the pristine bathroom, hitting the shower controls. Cold water washed away all the traces of heat. Anna shivered, violently, and took a deep breath, pressing her forehead against the blindingly white tile wall.

She stopped the water with a press of a button. It was hardly surprising that she was seeing the faces of the Railroad agents again. She had killed them herself. Probably her subconscious creating imagery to deal with the things she's gone through.

There was a time when she had considered them friends.

But what did it matter? Shaun… Shaun was with her at last. She regretted ever running away. She should have stayed when she came here for the first time. Instead, she had run away. Back to the Brotherhood, back to Maxson. And how had he he repaid her? With betrayal.

M7-97 was happier now. She still called him ‘Danse’ sometimes, but he didn’t understand. At least now he belonged. All the conditioning that the Brotherhood had done to him was overturned. He was finally free.

No more running. No more fighting. He was a lot calmer, quieter. Softer. He liked books. Anna brought him one, a history book that she found propping up a couch in the Old Statehouse. He read it all, cover to cover, and asked for more. Anna promised she would bring some with her next time.

Wiping her hair dry with a towel, Anna walked back into her room, coming face to face with X6. She gasped, covering herself. X6 looked mildly annoyed.

“It’s time.”

“Now?”

That was a surprise. She didn’t expect to march until the morning. Madison Li and Rosalind Orman had given her a good rundown of the details, but they were still waiting on the Robotics to finish writing the algorithm for the virus.

“It is an opportune moment. X9-27 reported that If we wait, Liberty Prime would come online. The decision has been made.”

“I understand,” she said, cold as the water she had just washed in. A sense of calm came over her mind. Of stillness. Concentration.

She dressed quickly, a Courser uniform, and picked up her weapons. Shaun had promised to get her something more befitting her special status, but it would do for this mission. X6 was waiting right outside the door. He nodded to her.

_It’s time._

They went down the stairs to the elevator. X6 followed her, swiftly and silently, like a shadow. The giant tube took them up to the relay room.

Anna stepped on the platform and a blinding flash of light split her into atoms.

She had gotten over the unsettling feeling of being dead for a split second a long time ago. If she was a perfect copy, so what? The original her was long gone, and there was no way to bring her back. It didn’t matter any longer.

Her feet hit the old cracked concrete. Even from the very edge of the airport field she could see the giant frame supporting Liberty Prime, though it was mostly obscured by the airport building.

 

Arthur jumped down on the ground, his gatling laser ready. Nothing was coming to charge at him, but he could see a dead deathclaw not too far from the entrance. The predator was killed a while ago, but even now he could see bulletholes in the bare skull.

That was a promising start. By the size of those holes, he would have guessed they were made by a sniper rifle.

He nodded at Rhys to go first. The Paladin readied his weapon before carefully scanning the dark cave. He motioned for Arthur and Knight Lucia to come closer.

There were can chimes hanging further down, clearly outlined by the dim light coming from within the cavern. Arthur consciously fought down the hope rising in his chest. This could be another disappointment. Anything could be down in that cave.

A loud clicking started in the dark corner, making him turn his head. Automatic turrets came to life, spraying them with bullets.

Most of them bounced harmlessly off the steel shells in which they were enveloped. Raising his weapon, Arthur answered with a barrage of energy shots from his gatling laser. Within a few seconds there was nothing left from the turrets but charred and broken bits of metal.

The soft classical music that was coming from the lit up section of the cave cut off abruptly.

Arthur parted the chimes, trying to minimize the ungodly clatter. Not that it was necessary. Whoever was inside the cave was already aware of their presence.

In the silence of the cave their steps sounded like thunder.

They walked into a small opening, clattered with all sorts of junk. Books, shelves, haphazard notes, syringes and bottles of medications. A crude lab and chemical station were sitting in the corner, and beside them stood a man.

He was indeed human. Not that Arthur doubted Anna’s word… but she did have a record of lying to protect her friends.

Brian Virgil, still dressed in a dirty Institute gown, raised a pistol at them.

“Who are you? What do you want?”

Arthur lowered his weapon, for now, but Rhys and Lucia didn’t.

“We are from the Brotherhood of Steel,” answered Arthur, sizing up the man. He was not a warrior, that much was obvious. Even from here he could see that the scientist’s hands were trembling slightly.

“I can see that,” snarled Virgil, jerking his head at them. He probably meant their breastplates, proudly showing the sword, wings and gears insignia. “Where is Knight Anna?”

“ _Sentinel_ Anna Lester requires your help, doctor,” said Arthur in coldly, “you would be wise to come with us.”

The shaking of the scientist’s hands stopped. He narrowed his eyes.

“She would have come herself if she needed help. Why are you here? Where is she? What have you done to her? Who are you?”

The scientist was making demands. He had some nerve.

Setting Final Judgement on the stone floor of the cavern, Arthur reached up and took off his helmet. Rhys made a warning noise, as Virgil now had a clear shot at Arthur.

But he didn’t care. Virgil was clearly not proficient with weapons. Besides, if it came down to it, he would be able to deal with him with his bare hands.

“I’m Elder Arthur Maxson. Sentinel Anna Lester was poisoned by our enemies, the Enclave. She is dying.”

Virgil’s brows shot up, but he didn’t lower his pistol. “Elder?” he said. “I thought you’d be older. And why would you seek me out? Surely there were other ways.”

Arthur’s eye twitched. He took in a deep breath, counting from five backwards in his head before speaking,as calmly as he could.

“The toxin was weaponized. Engineered from the FEV. There is nothing we can do in the time we have. But I’ve heard this is your speciality.”

“It was,” Virgil nodded, “the Institute Bioscience division had a project. I… disagreed.”

They stared at each other, engaged in a contest of wills.

“Why are _you_ here, Maxson?” demanded Virgil, “ran out of lackeys to do your biddings?”

Arthur grit his teeth together. Rhys and Lucia were standing at his sides, still as statues, weapons ready. All things considered, he trusted them and their judgement.

He took a step closer to the scientist, then another one. With each one Virgil flinched lightly, his grip on a pistol tightening. But he didn’t fire.

Whether he didn’t have the guts to fire on another human or he was afraid in general, didn’t matter. With a last long stride, Arthur was standing right in front of the man, towering above him. He’d be taller than him even without the power armor, but in the frame he stood a head over Virgil.

Roughly shoving him against the stone wall of the cavern, Arthur loomed above the scientist. He pinned him down easily with one massive metal hand. Just a little more pressure and he could have crushed the man’s ribs. That gown of his provided no protection against the sheer force of the power armor suit.

“I’m here because she is to be my wife, Virgil,” growled Arthur. His voice sounded unexpectedly gruff even to him. “I’ll do whatever it takes to save her. And I don’t care if I need to break your spine to make you come with us. I’ll do it with my bare hands.”

He could see beads of sweat gathering over the scientist’s brow. Looking up at Arthur’s face, Virgil nodded slowly.

“I see.”

Releasing the hold on Virgil, Arthur stepped away. The scientist lowered his gun and stood up straighter. Arthur nodded and turned to his escort, reaching up to put his helmet back on.

“However...”

The word rang through the emptiness of the cavern like a bell. Arthur’s eyes narrowed. He glanced over his shoulder at Virgil.

“I have conditions.”

 

EM generators spewed sparks at her when Anna shot them. Immediately flashes of blue lightning announced the arrival of reinforcements. Anna motioned to a newly appeared Courser and a host of Gen-1s and Gen-2s to follow her. The Brotherhood’s resistance was heavy, but they were no match for them, especially not when they could call down infinite number of cannon fodder.

The soldiers were slowly losing ground, pushed back towards the gates of their own base, control of the building lost.

“X9,” called Anna. A familiar Courser approached her. She pointed to the watchtower at the gate. “Take that position and stop them from getting a good shot at us. I’ll be defending the virus bot on top of the structure.”

“Understood,” said the Courser, readying his weapon.

Anna waited until X9 charged in, his superhuman speed and strength no match even for the T-60 armor-clad Paladin defending the tower. Only then did she move into the support structure. Liberty Prime was massive, and the supports went four storeys up.

“You!” The shout made Anna raise her head.

Proctor Ingram was standing beside Prime’s head, a gauss rifle in her hands. Anna shook her head.

“I was hoping not to find you here.”

“You lying bitch! You were working with the Institute all along?!”

“I was not… but you won’t believe me, will you?” Anna’s voice was tinged with sadness. Ingram raised her weapon.

“Good guess,” said the Proctor, the rifle glowing bright blue in her hands.

_… shot flying over the icy bay in a flash of blue, breath coming out in puffs of steam. It’s yours if you’ll have me, say yes, please say yes. True Maxson, true steel…_

The shot hit her in the chest and it _burned_ , its force throwing Anna backwards on the floor. Electric charge dissipated through her body, making her limbs twitch. X6 jumped over her, his movement so fast it seemed blurred. He maneuvered around Ingram, firing shots freely, taking advantage of his superior agility. In her power armor frame, she had tough time turning on the narrow, shaky catwalk.

“What a fucking grasshopper,” growled Ingram, firing as fast as she possibly could, but her shots were only grazing the Courser, his speed doing justice to his title.

She wasn’t even looking at Anna, too focused on X6.

Ingram didn’t even know she was behind her, not until Deliverer’s barrel pressed into the back of her head. A clean death was as much mercy as Anna could give her, in honor of their past friendship.

Ingram’s body slumped forward, the armor frame still holding her upright. X6 kicked it down through the gap between the catwalk and Liberty Prime’s metal hull. It made deafening noises, colliding with the metal beams and railings. Anna looked away, closing her eyes.

“Vertibird incoming.”

Now was not the time to let her feelings run loose. A vertibird was indeed approaching fast. Anna threw down beacon markers, summoning more synths to her aid and took cover behind the Prime.

A solitary Gen-1 appeared next to her, and it immediately climbed to the back of Prime’s head and dove inside. That must have been the virus bot.

A rain of red laser fire crashed on the top of the platform, mowing down almost all the reinforcements Anna had summoned. She knew of only one weapon capable of dealing such heavy damage so quickly. She helped modify it to such strength herself.

She also knew the man wielding it, even if she couldn’t see him.

“Aim for the blades. Just get one down and the whole thing will spin out of control and crash,” she ordered to X6, “that’s how most of their ‘birds end up taken down. With luck, it would be enough to kill everyone on board.”

“Acknowledged.”

X6 dashed out of the cover, firing fast, drawing attention. Rapid gatling laser fire followed him around, melting the metal catwalk behind him, but never quite catching up. Anna took off the laser musket from her back. One day she would need to tell M7 that he was the one who made it for her, even if he didn’t remember…

She spun the crank mechanism five times and took a deep breath, stabilizing her aim. The blades were rotating fast, but an injection of Jet was enough to slow them down to a manageable speed. She pulled the trigger.

One of the blades was severed right off, and her suggestion proved true. The vertibird started spinning in place, the pilot losing control. It tilted and a second later it crashed into the courtyard, with an explosion that blinded Anna for a brief moment. She blinked away black spots in her eyes and reloaded her weapon.

She couldn’t get lucky even once, it seemed. The crumpled metal of the ‘bird gave way under the hydraulic-enhanced power armor strength, and a single survivor of the crash climbed out, his massive form clearly outlined by the flames.

Even without seeing his face Anna knew who it was. Arthur Maxson, Elder of the Brotherhood of Steel, looked up at the top of the platform where Anna stood. He was unmistakable. It was his armor, his gatling laser. It was him, she had no doubt in her mind.

“Fifty percent completion,” said virus bot behind her in a cold synthesised voice.

 

“You are not in a position to argue, Virgil,” growled Arthur, turning back. The scientist shrugged.

“It would be wise to incentivise the people you rely on, Maxson. I can create the antidote, but whether it would be days or weeks or even years is undecided.”

“Anna doesn’t have this much time.”

“You see my point then.”

His metal clad hand clenched and unclenched slowly. It would take only one hit with his strength, enhanced by hydraulics of the suit, to beat Virgil into submission. But he needed him… intact.

“Fine. What are your conditions?”

Virgil grinned, tucking the pistol behind his belt.

“Safe passage out of the Glowing Sea for starters. A lab. Supplies and caps when I’m finished. You drop me out in the Commonwealth at the point of my choosing and forget I ever existed.”

Arthur frowned at the scientist. That was… reasonable. But letting go of him in the end? This man was an asset. Not to mention there was no telling what he would do out in the Commonwealth. There were more synths, other scientists that could have escaped - he knew there were, Anna’s Minutemen let those synths and scientists that surrendered to go. Even though Arthur had ordered his soldiers to shoot on sight.

They may be reconciling somewhere within the Commonwealth. A lingering threat. A shadow of enemy. Just like the Enclave, impossible to completely stamp out, even with a nuclear explosion.

There was no way he could...

 _Anna_. This wasn’t about him and his opinions.

“Fine. I agree to your terms, Virgil. Don’t make me regret it,” spat Arthur, latching his helmet back in place. Anna didn’t have time for this negotiations. The sooner they got back with Virgil, the sooner the scientist could start working on an antidote.

“I’ll have to trust you on that. Though I’ve heard that you are a somewhat honorable man… for a twenty year old.”

“What would an Institute worm know about honor,” growled Arthur, picking up his gatling laser. Maybe he should smack the damn scientist for a good measure after all.

“Quite a big deal, actually. There is a reason I’m stuck in this hellhole, Maxson. You should have asked your future wife about it when you had the chance.”

Arthur didn’t know that Anna had made the second trek into the Glowing Sea for Virgil’s sake until Kells told him. She always had secrets, even from him.

Why was Virgil in this cave? What happened between him and the Institute? Why did Anna help him? Why did he help her?

He realized with sudden clarity that didn’t really know anything about her life outside the Brotherhood. When she wasn’t on the Prydwen or around Boston Airport, she was… somewhere else.

She allowed him to be a part of it when she let him wear the cloak of the Shroud in her stead when she had no time, but that was just a small piece of the puzzle. Why didn’t she have time? He knew her schedule with the Brotherhood, he assigned the missions to her personally.

At times she would be gone for far too long before reporting in, worrying him sick.

And when he asked where did had been she’d tell him high tales of mirelurk queens and glowing deathclaws. They would laugh. He would tell her that he was glad she returned safely.

He knew of some of her friends, but she was always careful not to bring any of her inhuman companions with her or even mention them. He would only hear rumors and whispers.

Rumors and whispers, nothing more. He didn’t know anything.

“We’re leaving. Now,” said Arthur sharply, walking past Rhys and Lucia towards the mouth of the cavern. Rhys had an extra hazmat suit with him, to let Virgil get to the Prydwen without any additional exposure.

He waited on the vertibird until the three emerged about half an hour later, with Lucia carrying Virgil’s bags. When they rose up above the ground, Arthur spotted a massive deathclaw prowling in the distance.

His scar itched at the sight.

 

The catwalk shook. The damage done to it by the gatling laser had interfered with the supports’ integrity, and the powerful blast wave of a vertibird explosion was all it needed to fail.

Anna felt it shift under her feet and grabbed at the railings just in time. The metal groaned, and the top tier of the structure came down on one side. Letting go of her musket, Anna clung on for dear life as the catwalk swung down like a giant pendulum, still attached to the structure on one end.

It crashed into the supports, and the entire structure shuddered on impact. Anna was smashed against the metal, losing her grip on the railings for a split second. She slipped down, but managed to grab onto it again. There was still a good two storeys between her and the ground.

“Ma’am!” X6 reached out to her from the surviving staircase. With her peripheral vision Anna could see Maxson lifting his gatling laser. She had no means to take cover in this position, hanging down like a damn piñata.

In the short seconds the laser was winding up, her legs scrambled up the railing against which she was pressed, and Anna leapt, pushing hard, reaching for the Courser’s hand.

He caught her. Thank God he caught her. X6 pulled her up, helping her over the railings. Where she’d been hanging but a second ago was sprayed with laser fire. It followed her, and she felt stinging pain on her back.

X6 grabbed her by the shoulder, turning them. He pushed her out of the way, taking her place under fire as they fell down to the floor.

The Courser’s back was smoldering from multiple laser hits. He groaned in pain.

“Functions compromised...”

Anna rolled away from him, pulling out her pistol, her primary weapon nowhere in sight.

Coming at a man with the best power armor the Brotherhood could create with a small pistol. Anna almost laughed at the absurdness of her predicament. She was no Courser… but she was not going to give up. All she needed was to distract him until Liberty Prime would be compromised.

Before another spray of laser fire could cover them, she was running down the stairs, black Courser coat flapping behind her. She didn’t stop when she hit the ground, running as fast as she could towards Maxson. He raised his weapon, and she knew she would have but a second before it would be wind up.

She changed direction fast, ducking away from the fire that never came.

“Anna?! Is that really you?…”

That was when she stopped. Maxson lowered his weapon, looking at her. It was obvious he had mistaken her for a Courser initially, but now the flickering light of the still-burning vertibird had fallen on her face.

Her hand closed around a teleport beacon, tucked behind her belt.

His hesitation was a mistake. She threw the beacon down, summoning a wave of synths. Maxson took a step back, his gatling laser starting to spin up again. She knew this time he would not stop.

She ran for the crashed vertibird, taking cover while laser fire tore through the synthetic bodies. Circling around the burning wreck, she pulled out her switchblade.

He wasn’t watching his back, still fighting the reinforcements she summoned. Anna sprinted towards him and leapt, grabbing a hold of the oxygen tanks, sticking out of the back of his armor. He turned, but there was no way he could reach her or shake her off. Anna slammed the base of her knife into his visor with all her strength, and the tempered glass split into a web of tiny breaks, effectively blinding him.

He staggered, swinging at her, but in his armor he couldn’t reach her, clinging to his back while she cut the oxygen and fuel tubes and pried open smaller panels, smashing controls.

“Seventy five percent,” she heard above.

The armor jerked and swung open, sending Anna flying. She crashed into the ground, stunned for a few seconds. Maxson stepped out of his armor and picked up his gatling laser. He was bleeding from a head wound, his usually neatly styled hair clung to the side of his face, sticky with blood.

“How could you do this to us?” he roared, his little kingdom burning around him, “to me?”

Anna licked her lip, tasting blood on her tongue.

“You brought it on yourself.”

She needed to get closer to him, needed to avoid that gatling laser while doing so. She was out of beacons, out of synths. Most of her forces were still fighting the other Brotherhood soldiers.

“I loved you,” he said. His tone was bitter, broken.

Anna clenched her teeth. “You don’t know what love is.”

Something went off inside the vertibird, a secondary explosion crashing over them. His head snapped towards the wreck, and it was all she needed.

Anna launched herself at him, closing the gap between them. She sunk her blade into his right arm and he cried out, losing a grip on his weapon. But his other arm grabbed her around the neck, pulling her down, the force of it threatening to snap her spine. She cried out, trying to resist, but he was so strong.

And suddenly he jerked and his body went limp. Anna opened her eyes, seeing a pair of black boots beside them. Looking up, she came face to face with X6. The Courser still had Maxson’s head in a tight hold, his neck twisted at a disturbing angle.

 _Dead_. In a split second, without ever knowing what hit him.

X6 let the body drop to the ground and Anna’s knees were suddenly weak. She fell to the ground beside him. The blue eyes of her enemy were still open, fire reflecting within. Her own eyes burned, why? Why, why, why was she in so much pain?

“Ma’am…”

Anna didn’t look up at the sound. Her fingers traced Arthur’s face, his blood covering her leather glove.

Why did it feel so _wrong_? She came here to end the Brotherhood, he was one of her targets. She did it for the Commonwealth, and for Shaun… while Arthur Maxson was alive there could be no peace. But with him dead she would find no peace for herself and she somehow knew it.

“Ma’am!”

Tears rolled down her face, and she closed her eyes, shaking. What had she done?

A strong arm grabbed her around the neck from behind, pulling her up, pulling her away from the body. Anna screamed in protest, but her eyes widened at the sight of the Prydwen burning. It was massive, and it was getting even larger as it got closer and closer, obscuring the entire sky.

A blinding flash of blue light tore her out of existence.

 

Arthur climbed out of the power armor and reached for his coat. The familiar weight on his shoulders felt somewhat reassuring. Beside him Rhys and Lucia were stepping out of their suits as well. Virgil was trying to undo the clasps on his hazmat suit while also looking around in all directions. The scribes had managed to bring the power back on.

Or it could be that Ingram had woken up while they were down in the cave.

“The lab is located on the third level. Lucia will show you the way,” said Arthur over his shoulder.

“Yes, yes, I am very eager to start working in an actual facility! Not that it can compare to the laboratory I used to have in the Institute, but it certainly beats the cavern.”

“You could also use a shower, sir,” cringed Lucia, helping Virgil out of the hazmat suit.

“Oh! You have showers here?”

“What did you think this ship is? Of course we have some damn showers!” snapped the Knight.

“Well, I didn’t exactly have much information on it...”

Arthur was putting away his weapons when he saw Cade running towards the power armor bay.

“Elder Maxson, sir... there is something you need to hear.”

“Is it Anna?” He straightened immediately, noticing that Virgil and Lucia stopped arguing.

“Yes. Please… come with me, now.”

Arthur glanced at Rhys.

“Make sure Virgil gets everything he needs.”

“Yes, sir.”

A moment later Arthur was running through the tight corridor after the medic, an uneasy feeling gripping his insides. The tone and urgency with which Cade spoke couldn’t mean anything good.

“I was doing a regular check on her condition, as I do every day, sir,” they were crossing the threshold of the medbay and coming closer to Anna’s bed.

“And?”

Cade leaned over her, pulling her eyelid open. With the other hand he produced a small flashlight and shone it right into her eye. The pupil did not constrict, staying wide and open. The warm golden-brown iris had retreated into a small band around it. The pupil was a well of darkness. Arthur didn't know pupils could widen so much.

It was a disturbing sight.

“What… what does that mean, Cade?”

“There is also barely any response to pain and other stimuli. Arthur… She is in a coma.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter theme: [Two Steps From Hell - All Is Hell That Ends Well](https://youtu.be/-CYEbBqbfWI)
> 
> Happy 4th of July y'all.


	6. The Hanged Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **The Hanged Man (XII)** \- self-surrender. Sacrifice. Willingly letting go of something to gain something greater. Suspension.

 

Proctor Quinlan took off his glasses with a weary sigh. He was inputting the data that his scouting teams had retrieved from the Commonwealth. The wealth of knowledge contained in the ruins of old Boston was vast, and he was sure to get more shipments from the newly established Commonwealth chapter, though surely not at such a rate as when they’d first arrived.

But for now, he and his scribes were stuck processing the bulk of it. Documents needed to be researched, categorized and entered into the system. It was a tedious task.

Some books also required restoration after two hundred years in the ruins. The Library, or the C-ring, the latest wing to be unearthed from the rubble, was massive. And it was all dedicated to research and safekeeping of the pre-war books and documents.

The Scribe took a moment wiping non-existent smudges off the lenses, taking a small break from the endless stream of numbers and names. He looked around for Emmet but remembered that the Prydwen had left in such a hurry no one had bothered to bring his cat down.

Quinlan wanted to bring him back a day before the Elder left - on such a short notice that most of the non-essential personnel were only informed after the fact - but Emmett was hiding somewhere. Quinlan figured that it was not a big deal. He could come back another day since Emmett disliked change of the scenery.

He sighed. Emmett loved lounging on his lap when he was working. The Proctor had missed the company. He hoped that someone would remember to feed him but he was not too worried. Emmett was perfectly capable of pestering the crew until someone fed him. Probably several someones, depending how pitiful his meows became.

Fixing his glasses on his nose, Quinlan returned to the papers.

“Proctor?” a young Scribe touched his shoulder gently, and Quinlan barely refrained himself from sighing again. He was getting distracted too much, with his own thoughts and by the other people. All he wanted was just some peace and quiet.

“Yes, what is it?” He almost wanted to send the Scribe away to pester someone else. But this was one of the Prydwen’s Scribes, Baxter, so he listened.

“There is seem to be another _misunderstanding_ between some of our brothers, sir… I tried to get a hold of the Paladin-Commander or Head Scribe to help figure this out peacefully, but Commander is out in the field with Elder Casdin and the Head Scribe is on the comms with the Western chapter and not to be disturbed. Please, Proctor…”

Keeping a stiff upper lip, Quinlan closed the folder. The young Elder had certainly left the Citadel in a state of disarray. His highly anticipated return had lasted a mere three days before he had taken the Prydwen away on another quest.

A quest of which many did not approve.

There seemed to be an awfully strong opposition to the newly appointed Sentinel. It seemed odd, perhaps suspicious, even… but Quinlan had simply told himself that he had been reading way too many pre-war murder mysteries and comic books.

Those were quite fascinating, pre-war people had such marvelous imaginations. These days nobody had time to write new stories. Survival came first, and it was a sad reality.

Quinlan intended to change that. His terminal on the Prydwen contained his notes on a future biography of the latest Maxson. He didn’t doubt the young man would lead the order to glory and he intended to be a witness to it.

If he could get on the Prydwen before it leaves again, he chuckled to himself. Oh, poor Emmett. How was he doing? It would be a little unusual to request a transmission to the Prydwen only to check up on his cat. Perhaps there was something he could research on the FEV or the Enclave to get a good excuse and maybe even help to save the Sentinel.

“Yes, of course… thank you for getting me, Baxter. I’ll take care of it.”

“Follow me, Proctor.”

They walked through the library towards the B-ring, and he could hear heated voices coming out of the barracks. Quinlan groaned internally. This was not his preferred duty but as a Proctor of the Order of the Quill he had the responsibility and the authority to put an end to it.

“What is going on here? Everyone stand down!”

He hated raising his voice. But it was often necessary when dealing with soldiers. It seemed on this occasion that there were some bloody brutes from the Army trying to shout down not only his Scribes but a couple of Lancers that had come to their aid.

The soldiers glared at him, but he as Proctor he outranked them. Should they try to raise their voices on him, he had a lot of book crates that were not going to move themselves.

“Proctor Quinlan, sir,” Scribe Matthews ran over to him, nearly in tears. He had to stop himself from backing away awkwardly as the girl put himself into his personal space. “They threatened us! We didn’t do anything, but…”

“Everything has a reason,” he said. He turned his gaze back to the soldiers and kept his tone cold. “Some more valid than others. What reason could you possibly have to insult and threaten your brothers and sisters?”

He already suspected what the problem was, but he needed to hear the words.

“The Wastelander,” spat one of the Knights, “she just used us and our resources, and the Elder lets her walk all over him!”

“That’s Sentinel to you, asshole!” lashed out Lancer Crey, “and you know nothing!”

“I said stand down!” Quinlan rubbed his temples in annoyance. This situation was giving him a headache, “that includes you, Crey. But you are right. Sentinel Lester was appointed by Elder Maxson after an incredible show of skill and resourcefulness in the campaign against the Institute and…”

“She was sleeping with him, and that is the only reason he had ever promoted her! The Elder…”

“You will not interrupt me, Knight,” said Quinlan quietly, his patience running thin. “Do you doubt your Elder’s decision?”

“You support a person who fucked her way through the ranks and endangered the Elder’s life?”

“That’s enough!” Perhaps questioning them was the wrong idea. He seemed to be making matters worse. This was not his forte, after all. Perhaps he should seek out Tristan. The Commander was respected within the Army and had a knack for putting out this sort of fire.

Not him, a weary quiet Scribe, be he a Proctor or not. Soldiers usually had no respect for their line of work.

“All of you,” Quinlan pointed at the soldiers, “report to the kitchens immediately. Instigating discord and insulting the Elder and the Sentinel is a grave mistake. I’ll see that Paladin-Commander hears about it.”

The soldiers had enough common sense left not to argue with him. Even mentioning Tristan seemed to do the trick, for now. Quinlan couldn't keep down a sigh.

This day couldn’t get much worse. He probably should go talk to Rothchild about this too, as he was the only one of the Citadel commanding officers left here at the moment. Something needed to be done with this disturbance within the ranks before things escalated.

Before someone did something stupid.

What an unfortunate time to have both Casdin and Tristan out in the field. For now, he ordered the soldiers to go to the kitchens and report to someone for menial duties.

Quinlan hurried out the door towards Head Scribe’s new office in the Library.

The Head Scribe was his mentor of over twenty years. Quinlan walked into the office without knocking, as was his custom, ever since he was a young Scribe-Initiate running to Rothchild with another rare find from the ruins. He heard him talking to someone, likely still on the comms with the West.

That was odd. Usually, those things took half an hour at most, as the chapters operated mostly independently and mutual communication was more of a polite formality than anything else. He stepped closer.

“... yes, I understand. I apologize, he left in such a hurry none of us could do anything.”

Ah, of course, it was about young Maxson’s departure. That would explain it, perhaps Rothchild was trying to get some advice on the matter.

“Yes, he had taken the woman with him.”

_‘The woman’? The Sentinel?_

“It was the only thing we could come up with on such a short notice, Elder. We didn’t expect him to actually… yes. Yes, we knew that he had _fraternized_ with her, but we had never thought it would go that far. We also didn’t anticipate her survival.”

Quinlan stood rooted in place, unable to move. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. No, there was no way, there must have been some explanation. He couldn’t hear what the Western Elder was saying back to Rothchild, they could be talking or meaning something else…

But he unable to convince himself. Those excuses sounded too feeble for his logical mind. The pieces fell into place as he was listening to his mentor, who was still oblivious to his presence, a heavy set of headphones obstructing his already impaired hearing.

This instigation of discord, the unexpected hostility, the doubts, and suspicions, someone had to be planting them and letting them fester. Saying the right things in the right ears. Quinlan just couldn’t believe it would be _Rothchild_ … he was the greatest Lyons supporter back in the day. What changed?

“I agree. But there is a chance that he would succeed.”

Maxson had a chance to save his Sentinel. If Quinlan would leave now he would also have a chance to warn the Elder about this treachery. But what if they would drop a hint on what was coming next? He had to stay.

“I understand. We’ll be more discreet this time. No, sir. They are blaming the Enclave, let them chase that lead. I made sure there were no traces left in our records. Personally.”

That was an insult to everything the order stood for. Quinlan felt sick. He retreated towards the door, trying to make as little sound as possible.

“I will contact you if the situation changes. There is no communication with the Prydwen while it’s out in the Glowing Sea. Yes. Understood, Elder.”

Which Elder was that, however? Rothchild never said his or her name. Quinlan took the last step back and put his hand on the door handle as Rothchild took off his headphones and turned away from his desk.

“Quinlan?”

“Head Scribe,” said Quinlan, forcing a smile. He should have left when he had the chance. Now his mentor’s stare was hard, his face touched by suspicion.

“There was a small matter about which I wanted to talk to you,” he continued, “but if you’re busy...”

“Transmission is over now,” Rothchild gestured for him to enter, “we can talk now. And, just how long were you waiting for me?”

“Barely a moment, sir. I didn’t want to disturb you so I didn’t enter…”

“No worries, no worries. What was the matter?”

What was the matter indeed? Quinlan grasped for the answer. With the information he’d just heard beating in his brain like a drum, he could barely form a coherent sentence. He had to find a way to transmit it to Elder Maxson.

“I… ah, right, there was more infighting in the barracks, sir. We need to find a way to stabilize the situation before… before it gets out of hand.”

“I will look into it, Proctor.” Under the cold stare of the Head Scribe, Quinlan nervously cleared his throat.

_He knows._

“Thank you, sir. Perhaps Commander Tristan should look into the matter. The instigators were Army brothers.”

“Agreed,” Rothchild’s gaze was piercing.

_He knows._

“Very well, Head Scribe. I will leave you to your duties.”

“... Quinlan.”

_He knows._

“Yes, sir?”

“Make sure you keep an eye on your Scribes. Wouldn’t want them to be caught in the middle of all of this infighting.”

Only his Scribes and a few Lancers that were in need of medical treatment were left behind on the Citadel. They were no match for the soldiers. Was that a threat?

He had to get out of there. He had to get a hold of long-range transmitter and contact… whom? The Prydwen was out of reach. There was no way to boost the signal enough to penetrate the heavy radiation storms that surrounded the area.

At least not from here. But perhaps the Commonwealth chapter could… no. There was nothing with sufficient power to do so. He knew that for a fact, they had only left the Commonwealth barely two weeks ago. There was no way Brandis’ charges would come up with something so advanced in such a short amount of time. There had to be a way, however…

“Of course, Head Scribe. I will ask them to be more considerate in the future.”

“Dismissed, Proctor.”

He left the room at his usual steady pace, but as soon as the door closed behind him, Quinlan ran.

 

The night found him scrolling through Owyn Lyons’ personal log. It had taken Quinlan some time to figure out where to start, but he had found the first mention of Daphne, the Vault Dweller, and worked his way from there.

_I had my doubts about her dealing with the Enclave, but she proved loyal in the end. I couldn’t imagine that Eden would be as trusting, but I have to admit, the girl has charm. Sarah treats her as a sister, a true younger sister she never had. It fills my heart with joy watching them, and yet there is sadness plaguing my mind, along with any number of ‘what ifs’. I’m getting too old._

No mentioning of what had soothed the Elder’s doubts. Something as important as that surely would have made its way into the diary. Rothchild must have edited any mention of the toxin out. If not for the conversation Quinlan have happened to overhear, nobody would have been any the wiser.

_Reginald believes we should re-establish a connection with the West, that it’s in our best interests. But I just can’t bring myself to do that. I know what they would demand of me. Stop helping the people. Keep the purifier to ourselves. Give them the boy._   
_I can’t let them do any of those things. Not while I live._

There it was. Perhaps there was more before Rothchild had gotten his hands on it, but there was nothing he could about it now, only attempt to fill in the blanks.

_I have to ensure that when I pass, the control of the chapter goes to Sarah. She will know to do the right thing. I know some people are just waiting for my death as it comes ever closer, but Sarah will ensure we stay on the right path. Entire Lyons Pride will stand beside her. I need to speak to Cross about her protection as well._   
_And of course, there is Daphne. She will keep her safe when she is not out on her adventures. It almost feels like I have another child._

Star Paladin Cross was killed in action during the Shepherd campaign, along with many others. She hadn’t protected Sarah Lyons like Owyn had hoped, nor had the Wanderer.

But it did make sense that the West may have wanted her gone. She was standing in Maxson’s way, she was young, stubborn and strong and unlikely to die by natural means like Owyn did. They could have waited until Owyn passed, but they couldn’t wait for Sarah.

The revelations were coming at him fast today. Quinlan rubbed his forehead, wiping off the cold sweat.

But why bother removing another Vault Dweller the Brotherhood had happened to take into the ranks? Unless…

_Give them the boy._

That line indicated that they had plans for Maxson, for that would be the only boy the West would be concerned about. Owyn tried to protect young Arthur from them. From… what?

He would need to think on it some more, but he looked at the clock and rose from his seat. It was night shift, and this was his best chance.

Quinlan walked into the laboratory, where only a couple of Scribes were tinkering on some recovered tech. They didn’t even raise their heads as he walked by, the luck was on his side. He was heading for the long-range transmitter.

He’d had an idea.

The only time he had visited the Minutemen Castle was to barter the recovered non-essential artifacts for technical data. While there, he had seen a powerful radio tower in the courtyard. That ought to be strong enough to pierce the interference, and the Castle was certainly closer to the Glowing Sea than the Citadel.

And the Minutemen would definitely be interested in helping to save the Sentinel.

He walked into a small room filled with terminals and cables, where a single Scribe was yawning behind the desk.

“Proctor? How can I help?” the Scribe sounded infinitely tired. That was good, perhaps his memory would be foggy.

“I need to send a transmission to the Commonwealth, now.”

“Sure, sure, sir. Go ahead.”

The Scribe rose from his seat, letting Quinlan take the terminal.

“Do you need my assistance contacting them?”

“There is no need for that. I would like a moment.”

“Sure thing, sir.”

The Scribe walked out of the room, still yawning. Quinlan opened the long range transmissions. There was no direct connection to the Castle, so he would have to contact the Commonwealth chapter first and hope that they would get the word to their allies as soon as possible.

He just had to phrase it right. How would one go about declaring high treason on the entire chapter and a high-ranking officer?

_Fr: Proctor Quinlan QN-44BPR_   
_To: Paladin Brandis BR-32PCM_

_Urgent news from the Citadel. We were betrayed by our own brothers and sisters, on the orders from the Western Elders. Sentinel Lester was poisoned by Head Scribe Rothchild and his associates. It is vital that this information finds its way to Elder Maxson, who is currently in the Glowing Sea, searching for a way to save the Sentinel._   
_You will need to use the Castle’s radio tower to boost the signal into the radiation storm. This needs to be done as soon as possible. Please do not respond to this message._

Quinlan quickly read over the message, ensuring that he had included all relevant information. His finger was on the ‘transmit’ button when the terminal blinked, and the screen went black.

“Oh no, what…”

“I told you I didn’t want you or your people to get caught in the middle of it, Quinlan. Apparently, you didn’t listen.”

His heart dropped when he heard Rothchild’s soft voice. Beside him was standing that sleepy night shift Scribe, and he wasn’t yawning anymore. There was a laser pistol in the young man’s hand.

“Sir, I was just requesting an update from the Commonwealth chapter. Checking if the first shipment of artifacts and data would arrive on schedule.”

“At 0130 hours?” There was a smile on Head Scribe’s lips.

“I…” All the words had left Quinlan’s brain. He watched helplessly as Rothchild walked towards him, stepping around the cables and chairs. “You can’t make me keep quiet, Reginald.”

“Sure I can. You would come with us, Proctor, if you care about the well-being of your remaining Scribes. I warned you.”

“You threatened, and you are doing it again.”

“I warned first, my boy. I am threatening now, however. You saw the two Scribes back in the lab, correct? They are making their way to the quarters of the Prydwen crew as we speak.”

“Oh, no…”

“Surrender peacefully, Quinlan, and in respect, for the years of your loyal service, you will not be harmed… you or anyone else.”

“I…” this information could save Elder Maxson and Sentinel Lester. But his Scribes... they counted on him. They hoped that he could protect them, however, fickle that hope was. All the other Proctors from the Prydwen had left with the ship. He was the only one who could save them now. “I will go with you, Rothchild.”

“Good choice.”

After Quinlan’s wrists were bound in handcuffs, Rothchild nodded to the Scribe to plug the terminal back in. The Head Scribe looked over the message, still sitting on the screen, with an amused look on his face. Quinlan could only watch in silence as Rothchild erased the message.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter theme: [Audiomachine - House of Cards](https://youtu.be/XYgS4f8QJlM)


	7. The Devil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **The Devil (XV)** \- confrontation with the darker side of human nature. Mirror of the soul.

_… they had to fight a hard war to gain territory. The Brotherhood had a strong presence in the Washington DC and supermutants roamed the streets looking for humans to abduct. The Enclave still had technological superiority and their vertibirds. They even took control of pre-war satellites that could fire missiles that had been waiting in the sky for hundreds of years. But their greatest weapons were deceit and manipulation. The Brotherhood relied on a local Wanderer for help in combating the Enclave. They kept fighting, trying to accomplish their brutal goals even after their repeated defeats at the hands of the order._

There was not much information on the history of the Enclave in the Brotherhood archives, but Arthur had ordered the scribes to give him anything they could find as soon as they found it. Defeated eleven years ago when he was still a child in Lyons’ care, unaware of the events transpiring around him. Nobody would ask a ten-year-old child to attend a war council.

He had to rely on whatever records the order had of that time, as well as a few verbal accounts made by Kells, Ingram, and Teagan when they had time to spare. But human memory could not be trusted as much as a written log from when the event was fresh and crisp.

This log, made by an anonymous Paladin back in 2278 was the best source of information he could find.

_Yet, it did not save them. In 2277, following their disastrous defeat by Liberty Prime at the Purifier, the Enclave was shattered again, with its leaders dead or missing, its strongholds annihilated by Brotherhood strikes. Now the once mighty remnants of the American elite have been reduced to a handful of wistful old men, hiding out in the wastelands._

Arthur rubbed his eyes, the lines of text blurring from exhaustion. He almost stopped sleeping at all, chasing the weariness away; but the needs of his body would win over his conscience, and then his dreams were dark, hopeless and deeply unsettling.

When he had a free moment, he would spend it by Anna’s side or researching his enemy, sometimes both at the same time. Her condition continued to worsen.

Virgil took over Neriah’s lab, much to the Head Scribe’s annoyance. The Institute renegade dove eagerly into the research, happy enough not to be stuck in the cave in the middle of the Glowing Sea. Arthur insisted that Cade, Neriah, Madison Li and Haylen all took turns watching the scientist. Helping him too, of course, but keeping an eye on him.

It was entirely possible that Virgil was still keeping to the Institute ideals and planned to reconnect with the remnants of them.

_The Enclave continues to operate in small bands that harass the Brotherhood and anyone else who strays too closely to their remaining outposts. But they are devoid of leadership and any long-term plans._

Just like the Enclave, the Institute has been defeated, the head of the snake cut off. But there are some of them still out there, a lingering threat.

_There is little else remaining of the Enclave or at least what Enclave wishes to reveal. The doubt remains. Could an organization with such resources be entirely stamped out? Much like radroaches, the Enclave have shown remarkable resilience. The people of the wasteland should be prepared to deal with another hidden nest of this relics of the old days._

The log entry ended with a sober warning, one to which Arthur wished more people had paid attention. Now Anna was paying the price of their oversight, and so was he.

 

The Prydwen made its way out of the Sea and into the southern Commonwealth, slowly drifting towards Boston Airport to restock and refuel. Virgil had come by Arthur’s quarters earlier that day, saying that he had made a breakthrough in devising a serum that would be able to neutralize the toxin.

However, Cade warned Arthur that the damage already done to Anna’s body would not be easily reversed. She slipped into a coma, and even if the antidote could be delivered, whether or not she would ever wake up remained an open question.

Arthur hated this suspension. His entire life seemed to be grinding to a halt, and between Anna’s condition, low expectations of Virgil’s serum and a hidden threat of the Enclave somewhere within the ranks, he felt more helpless than ever.

He could only wait. The outcome of the first two things was out of his hands now, but he could start working on the third. He read and researched everything the Brotherhood had ever found on the shadowy organization, and it was frustratingly lacking.

Arthur needed to come up with a plan to lure them out but his mind, deprived of sleep and solace, wandered. Concentration eluded him, logic escaped. He could find no idea worth pursuing, and it frustrated him even further.

Until Anna was safe or… _otherwise_ , he could not focus and he knew it. The uncertainty was slowly killing him, turning his mind and soul inside out. Arthur took a deep breath, his fingers closing on a black bandana around his neck.

Anna had blindfolded him with it during their first night together, back when he didn’t know who she was and he didn’t care. He cared now, deeply, cared for her more than anyone in his entire fucked up life. The fabric was warm from the heat of his body, and it served a constant, physical reminder of why he needed to keep fighting. It was a lifesaver in the midst of a raging storm and he clung to it for dear life.

Pushing himself away from the desk, Arthur groaned, stretching. He needed sleep, desperately, but he knew it wouldn’t bring him any rest. So he ignored the demands of his body and walked out of his quarters. The ship was long asleep, and snores were coming out of the crew quarters.

He stopped at the medbay, looking over Anna. She was pale, her chest rising and falling slowly. IV was hooked up to her arm, the clear liquid dripping slowly every second he watched her.

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

Arthur’s jaw tightened, and he imagined again with grim satisfaction what he would do to those responsible when he got his hands on them. Hell would be a mercy after he was done with them.

Dogmeat slept by her cot, stirring when Arthur came closer. The shepherd opened his eyes, regarding him wearily. The dog always stayed close to her, guarding his mistress day and night. Codsworth was also nearby, as the robotic butler didn’t need to sleep. He did, however, help out the crew when he could, and currently, he was nowhere in sight.

Arthur sat down on his heels and patted Dogmeat on the head.

“I know. We’re doing everything we can, I promise.”

Dogmeat licked his fingers before returning to sleep. Arthur got up and, glancing at Anna one more time, left the medbay.

He walked through the sleeping ship, restless, the only light coming from Virgil’s lab above. The scientist had an unusual sleep schedule, and Cade, Neriah, Li and Haylen had to work with it, working when he worked and sleeping when he slept. Whatever it would take to produce the antidote as quickly as possible.

Arthur rounded the corner of the mess hall, coming face to face with Scribe Haylen. The young woman regarded him wearily, and he could see the hostility in her eyes. She was trying to hide it, but not well enough.

“Elder. I was about to head up to help Virgil.”

“Of course, Scribe.”

Somehow Arthur felt that Haylen was aware of Danse’s survival. She must have, otherwise, she wouldn’t have been helping them now, working long odd hours to help Anna. In any case, he was grateful she kept quiet about it.

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

Something was nagging him at the very edge of his hearing. Like water dripping on a metal surface, barely noticeable but it was there. Perhaps something to do with Virgil’s experiments. The occasional sounds coming out of the lab were nothing unusual.

Haylen turned on her heel and proceeded up the narrow staircase, grasping the railings to help pull herself up. Arthur watched her leave, silent and still.

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

He walked through the mess hall and into the power armor bay, looking over the suits and workbenches. Perhaps doing some work on his weapons would ease his mind a bit. Doing something familiar and simple, doing something at all. It felt like all he was doing was just waiting and driving himself insane.

Arthur moved through the bay towards Teagan’s cage and froze, his eyes falling on a puddle of bright red blood. It dripped from above, it was making the sound he was hearing all this time in the stillness and silence of the night shift.

As if answering his findings, a high-pitched scream of horror came from above, and even from where he was he could tell that it was Haylen.

Arthur dashed across the bay, launching himself up the steep staircase, through the crew quarters where some people were stirring, awaken by the shriek. Another staircase that he barely noticed, flying up at top speed, jumping three stairs at a time. He already knew what he would see in the lab but he dreaded it to the deepest corners of his heart.

Brian Virgil, the Institute renegade, the FEV expert, the only hope Anna had for survival, was laying face down on the floor, a screwdriver handle sticking out of his back. His blood dripped through the grated floor down to the lower decks, and it only took Arthur one glance to know - the scientist was dead.

So was hope.

Haylen was on her knees beside him, her entire body trembling. Her hands were covered in blood as she tried to get the screwdriver out of Virgil’s back, sobbing and murmuring incoherent words.

“Scribe.”

She didn’t look up, still trying to shake the scientist awake.

“Haylen. He is dead.”

There was nothing left in Arthur, only the void. Dark and deep, all-consuming. Whoever did it… he not only killed Virgil. He killed Anna as well, for there was no one else in the entire world who could help her now.

He was dead inside, dead the moment he heard Haylen scream.

Murder on his own ship. Who did it? Why? And… _Anna_.

Before he could think of anything else, Arthur was sprinting through the Prydwen again, and the soldiers, woken up by the scream parted as he passed like grass in the wind. No. More like trees in a hurricane. It was wise of them. Arthur was ready to tear anyone who dared to stay in his way with his bare hands.

From the medbay came a long, vicious growl. He burst through the door to see Dogmeat standing in between Anna’s unmoving body and a shadowy figure, motionless in the face of the dog’s anger. Arthur’s instincts had been correct. Virgil’s murderer had come for Anna too.

He had not suspected who it would be.

Madison Li turned to face him, slowly, warily. Her face and clothing were streaked with blood. The look on her face was one of both disgust and conviction to her cause.

“You?” growled Arthur, taking a step towards the Scribe. He took a glance at Anna; she was still breathing, though that was hardly cause for relief. It was only a matter of time before her body would succumb to the toxin.

“Me,” Madison responded, wiping her bloody hand across the Brotherhood insignia on her lab coat.

“Why?!” He grabbed the collar of her uniform, almost pulling her off the floor. Biting back the pure rage, he ground his teeth together. It was taking all of his restraint not to smash her brains in before she can give him an answer. “Why kill Virgil? Why condemn Anna?!”

“Because I’m doing a favor for this god damned world,” hissed the scientist through her clenched teeth. “Let her live, and the world would burn in atomic flames, just like the Institute. Without her, you’re nothing, Maxson. If she dies, the world won’t have to suffer another genocide.”

“You did it just to avenge the _Institute_?!”

“You have no idea how much could we help the world. But you destroyed it all out of spite, you idiotic child! You think you’re the god, but you’re the _devil_.”

His heart and soul were tearing themselves apart, raging inside of him, screaming at him to end her pitiful life. He fought against the anger, forced his hands to remain still on her collar. He fixed his eyes on hers, willing the anger to transfer through the stare, and spoke.

“The devil has nothing on me, _traitor_.”

For a short moment, there was a flash of terror across her face. But it was quickly replaced by anger as she continued to hurl her accusations at him.

“You alone are to blame, Maxson. For the Institute, for the Commonwealth, and for your own loved ones, if you are even capable of love. The Institute Bioscience could have helped her, had you not wiped it out in your foolish crusade. You yourself destroyed all the people who could have helped you.”

In her, Arthur saw raw hatred and vengeance, burning bright like beacons. She was driven by them, she lived off the flames. It was all that was keeping her going, he knew it, and it frightened him because recognized himself in those eyes. He could easily become what she has, a husk of a person, mad with vengeance. Still living, but with nothing left inside.

“ _You_ killed Virgil.”

“He was a traitor, helping her to break into the Institute, helping her to survive. He even continued to help her after she committed a genocide of innocent people. He couldn’t see that she was going to do so much more to the world! She needs to die, and now, without the antidote, she will…”

A satisfied smile crossed Li’s face. Arthur shoved her against the wall like a ragdoll. She groaned from the impact but continued to glare at him.

Vengeance burned him from inside out, his hatred fanning the flames. It would be so easy to let go and let them consume him. He did it once before, after Sarah died. The deathclaw that killed her was wounded, but it was still a mighty opponent. Hatred fueled him in that fight, and despite his own injuries, he had emerged victorious.

But there could be no victory in this battle, for he had already lost. Arthur grasped at the wall for support, his knees suddenly buckling under him. He glanced at Anna, still alive yet already doomed, and whatever was left of his heart responded in sharp, almost physical pain.

Li stood proud, glaring back at him from the other side of the medbay. He could rip her apart, limb from limb, make her pay for what she did. Make her suffer. Heal the bleeding wound in his soul by avenging Anna.

Except that he knew it wouldn’t work. And he knew deep down that if he crossed that line, there would be no coming back.

He would not become like Li, a slave to vengeance, resorting to violence. Anna thought he was better than that. He was sure that he wasn't. But he could try, for her sake.

For her memory.

Arthur closed his eyes, hearing steps approaching the medbay, echoing off the metal walls.

“Elder Maxson…” Cade, disheveled from sleep, was accompanied by a couple of armed knights. “Virgil…”

“Murdered by this woman,” growled Arthur, turning towards them, “take her out of my sight.”

“Sir, what should we-”

“I don’t care. Take her away before I tear her apart for what she did. Do whatever you think is a fit punishment for her.”

Li was still standing proud and did not resist as the Knights handcuffed her and took her away, with Cade following them closely behind.

Arthur’s steps were unsteady as he moved toward Anna’s bed. He took her hand, his legs finally giving way, crashing to his knees. His eyes burned, the room disappearing behind a haze of tears. He tried to fight them back, tried to keep his composure. But there was nothing in this damn universe he cared about anymore. So what if someone saw him in the moment of weakness?

For the first time in eight long years, he let them fall. They trickled down his face, into his beard, falling away and onto the metal floor. Hope was such a cruel creature… It was given to him, and he fought for it. But it was all in vain, and his hope dripped to the metal floor in the sticky red liquid escaping Virgil’s dead body.

There was no more strength left in him. His soul had been eaten away, eroded by the trials that life had thrown at him. Even as everything he cared about was given away, lost, or sold, he had continued to feel hope, continued to fight. It was just the price he paid to be a Maxson. Even as everyone he loved was lost, or left him, he had continued to hope, continued to fight. _Anna had been the first to come back to him. But that would never happen again_. She would not walk into his command center with the dog at her heels, returning when no one else ever did.

Li was right.

_Without her, you’re nothing, Maxson._

This time, she’d needed him to bring her back. And he’d failed.

“I failed you,” whispered Arthur, his tears falling on the off-white sheets, soaking them through, “you needed me to save you, and I failed you…”

Anna couldn’t answer him, couldn’t hear him, couldn’t know that she was running out of time. Couldn’t know what happened, couldn’t know how much he needed her.

Arthur had no backup plan. If there was a way out, it was obscured by the darkness of his despair. He had no strength. He had no hope.

He had nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter theme: [Audiomachine - Unfinished Life](https://youtu.be/KsRmNnGi3-o)
> 
> I blame [Kicker](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Kicker) for the additional level of darkness and angstiness in this chapter. She is my awesome editor and I love her. You should too!


	8. The High Priestess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **The High Priestess (II)** \- subconscious. Realm of dreams. Deep emotions. Things that are hidden. Keeper of secrets. Mysterious woman.

“Elder Maxson…”

He did not respond, still kneeling at Anna’s bed. He just didn’t have the strength to look up.

“Arthur.”

“Leave me, Kells. It’s all over. I’m done. Just let me grieve in peace.”

“She is not dead yet.”

“She might as well be.”

Steps approached him, and a firm hand grasped his shoulder.

“We are in the Commonwealth again. Perhaps there are more survivors from the Institute that we can find.”

“They won’t help us.”

Why would anyone help them? They came into the Commonwealth to wage war, and that hadn’t made them any friends.Their goal was to destroy the Institute, so why would the survivors help them?

One had. He’s dead now.

“Perhaps not us. But they might if the Minutemen were the ones doing the asking. I have no doubt in my mind that General Garvey would do whatever is in his power to help save Anna.”

He felt hope stirring in his chest again, traitorous hope. He fought it back. It would only hurt more if he started imagining positive outcomes again. This lead was tenuous, more tenuous even than the previous ones.

What harm could it do? It was hopeless anyway.

“Radio the Castle, then. I’ll be there momentarily.”

“Yes, sir.” The Captain’s expression was confident, but he had to be shaken by the murder on the ship. They all were. Surely.

Arthur waited for the steps to fade away before rising, his joints creaking painfully after the long hours spent kneeling by Anna’s bed. He rubbed his face, trying to compose himself.

The medbay had no door. There was no way in hell the crew hadn’t seen him, their Elder, their leader, crying on his knees. Part of him dreaded facing them ever again, the other part was simply indifferent. Dead.

He walked out of the medbay and climbed down the ladder to the command deck. The Paladin guarding the door averted his eyes. Arthur walked past him, looking at the floor.

Kells’ bridge was unusually empty, only the Captain and the navigator present. Kells already had the transmitter ready. Arthur nodded to him, and the other man turned the knob.

“This is Lancer-Captain Kells of the Prydwen, come in, Castle.”

There was loud static coming out of the speaker for a second, then a series of clicks and clangs.

“Er, come in, Prydwen, this is Sergeant Reeves, Commonwealth Minutemen. I thought you folks had left.”

“We have an emergency, Sergeant. We need to speak to the General, ASAP.”

“Oh, sure. I’ll get him on the line immediately.” A loud bang sounded through the speaker as if something had fallen over. Arthur watched the gray skies, his back towards the Captain.

Through the speakers, they could hear a distant announcement echoing off the ancient stone walls. Calling in the new General.

“This is Preston Garvey. How can I help?”

“General,” said Kells, “we need your assistance. Sentinel Lester has been poisoned, and she is in critical condition. We are in desperate need of someone capable of producing an antidote. If you or any of your people have contact with surviving members of the Institute, we need them.”

“She was _what_?!” the speaker crackled as if it’s being breathed on, air blasting the microphone. “Damn it, she was supposed to be safe with you people! How?!”

Arthur’s shoulders slumped. Garvey was right. She was supposed to be safe with him, but he hadn’t protected her. He’d failed her, twice over. He turned away from the windows and stepped toward the transmitter himself.

“Garvey,” said Arthur, “she doesn’t have much time. Can you help us or not?”

There was a pause.

“There actually _is_ someone… they showed up at the Castle yesterday. No coincidence here, I didn’t believe it myself, but… uh, what I mean is that you need to meet them. Bring Anna here, but… listen, Maxson, come alone.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You wouldn’t like it if I told you. Just come to the Castle, bring Anna with you. No one else.”

“My people have researched the matter, let me bring a Scribe that was a part of the investigation...”

“Bring it all with you. But leave out your people. It’s for their sake, and for the sake of people who can still help you.”

“If they are from the Institute, we are not going to attack...”

“Castle, out.”

With a click, the communicator fell silent.

 

“Are you certain about this, Elder?”

He wasn’t certain, not at all. But he didn’t have any other options.

He glanced at Kells, a sideways glance over another box filled with books and notes, the results of Virgil’s work.

“Maybe they can’t do anything,” he said. “But even if they can’t, if they offer this chance and I don’t take it? I’ll never forgive myself.”

Anna was secured on a stretcher. Rhys and Lucia had brought her in, careful and precise. Dogmeat followed her into the vertibird, and so did Codsworth. While Garvey did ask Arthur to come alone, he doubted that Anna’s dog or robotic butler would get any objections. He would feel better having Dogmeat with her, the dog having saved Anna from Madison Li’s wrath already.

“Elder,” said Rhys. His face was grim as he looked down at the Castle, frowning. “Whatever it is, they really don’t want us to see it. I don’t like it..”

Arthur picked up his duffel bag.

“Neither do I,” he said. He felt the urge to tell the young Paladin that he wouldn’t let anything happen as if he could make that kind of promise. As if anything worse _could_ happen.

He climbed into the vertibird and strapped himself into a seat, before knocking the bulkhead.

“Signal us when you are ready to come back,” said Kells, raising his voice just enough to be heard through the roar of engines. Arthur nodded again, bracing himself for the quick drop. The vertibird detached from its supports and lurched downwards for a split second before the blades generated enough lift.

The Prydwen was to stay at the Airport until his return.

They hovered over the Castle before setting down on a dirt road leading up to the gates. The recent snows had partially melted, freezing over into ice that crunched under his boots. A group of Minutemen was already marching toward them, headed up by their General in his unmistakeable tricorn hat.

Dogmeat gave a loud bark and charged to meet the man, jumping up, resting his paws on his shoulders. Garvey almost staggered under the weight of the dog, but regained his balance and patted him on the back, laughing.

“Hi Dogmeat,” he said, gently pushing the dog away, still smiling. “Nice to see you too.”

The smile was gone by the time he finally turned to face Arthur. His dark eyes were full of anger as they looked over his shoulder into the vertibird. At Anna.

“Who did this?”

“The Enclave,” said Arthur. The Minutemen grabbed the boxes and the stretcher.

Beside them, Dogmeat was trying to jump up onto a man wearing a pair of reflective shades. Not a Minuteman, judging by his dusty leather armor. In fact, the whole crowd that had gathered around them in the past few minutes was mismatched. None of them, save for Garvey himself, was wearing a uniform. Was it even a uniform if no one else was wearing one?

“Careful! Bring her to the west bastion. We have set up a lab there.”

Arthur nodded to the pilot and followed Garvey into the Castle courtyard. The walls were crumbling, and there were dirt and debris everywhere. Was he a fool to bring Anna here? The conditions were surely a lot worse than on the Prydwen. Was he shortening her already waning time by chasing a non-existent hope?

The General stopped, then turned and caught his eye. Arthur didn’t know the man, but even so, he could tell he had something to say. Something he didn’t want to say.

Arthur waited until the last Minuteman carrying a heavy box was out of earshot before asking. “Why did you ask me to come alone, Garvey?”

Garvey walked away, disappearing through a stone arch. Arthur was left standing in the middle of the courtyard by the radio tower, shivering lightly in the cold breeze.

“I knew you’d come.”

The voice that came from behind him was weak but warm from behind him. Arthur spun around and stood motionless , puzzled by what he saw.

He saw an old woman dressed in worn but colorful clothing. Her mismatched jewelry glittered in the dim light, her head wrapped in a bundle of cloth. But the most bizarre thing about her was that she was sitting in a contraption that looked like a remodeled Mr.Handy, hovering above the ground on jets.

“My legs aren’t what they used to be, kid. Now quit starin’.”

“My… apologies,” muttered Arthur, still unable to stop examining the marvelous piece of engineering. Whoever built it was quite skilled and imaginative.

The woman clicked her tongue at him.

“My, my, you are just like her now, when I first met her.”

“Her?” Arthur started to suspect the woman was a bit unhinged. But there was something deeply knowing and unsettling about those pale eyes.

“Out of time, out of hope, out of luck. But all's not lost. I saw it…”

“Out of time?” he looked over his shoulder, where the Minutemen had taken Anna. The west bastion, where her quarters had once been. Unwelcome memories of happiness and hope flooded his mind, and he was unable to push them back before they overwhelmed him. once a source of solace. Now those memories turned on him, hurting and tormenting his soul.

“You are stronger than you think,” said the old woman. “There are still more trials ahead of you. But you have someone to fight for. Don’t give up, kid. Shadows… shadows gather, back where you began, and they have masks and claws and hidden webs, but wait for the nomad. She is the beginning, a sign, and she will bring the caged bird with her.”

“A nomad? A bird? What do you mean? And what do you mean by the ‘shadows’?” Arthur stepped closer to the woman, but she punched the controls, turning away on her hovering chair.

“That bird will not be carrying an olive branch. But you’ll still see that the sea of sorrow has an end.”

The chair’s jets made a soft humming sound as the woman hovered away

“Elder,” Garvey was walking towards them quickly, and there was another person following him. A small, lithe woman with short black hair, neatly brushed off her youthful face. She was dressed in simple clothing, but unlike most of the people he had seen around the Wasteland, hers were clean and well maintained.

She had blue eyes, bright and sparkling with curiosity. Was this the person Garvey hoped could save Anna? Arthur felt a pang of disappointment. The girl was probably barely older than himself.

“I’d like you to meet…”

“Designation Contagions Vulnerability Robotic Infirmary Engineer,” she said in a soft voice, rolling with an unusual accent, “or Curie.”

 

“Curie is from Vault 81, she used to be a modified Miss Nanny, programmed for medical research. She was transferred into a Gen 3 synth’s body.”

Arthur stared at the General, then at the woman - no, a _machine_ \- then back to Garvey.

“A… a _synth_?”

Now it all became clear. They didn’t want anyone else from the Brotherhood to come because… because they were harboring synths. Garvey had asked him to entrust Anna to a synth.

“Not initially, no. I was transferred to this Gen-3 body with ze help of Madame Anne. But of course, zere is no time to waste. I wil’ begin analyzing the data immediately.”

“Anna _helped_ you?” uttered Arthur, stunned.

“But of course! I have been traveling ze Commonwealth with ‘er! Madame was always very supportive of my scientific endeavors, and I am pleased to know zat my research could prove useful in saving ‘er life!”

Another thing she didn’t care to tell him about.

“Go on ahead, Curie. Everything should be ready.”

“Yes! I wil’ be in ze lab,” the synth ran off towards the west bastion, almost skipping. Arthur moved after her, intent not to let her out of his sight as she worked, but Preston Garvey didn’t step out of his way.

“Listen carefully, Maxson,” Garvey’s voice turned low, so the girl wouldn’t hear him, “you try to interfere with her, I’ll throw you out of here. If even a hair falls from her head because of you, you’re done for. And believe me, if you do that, when Anna wakes up and hears about that, you will wish she would have killed you that other time.”

“ _When_ Anna wakes up? I don’t have any hope left, General.”

“Well I do. She’ll make it. She always does.” Garvey suddenly smiled softly. “There is always hope. Anna taught me that much.”

Arthur turned away from him, still refusing to let himself believe. He had lost too many people he cared about already, he didn’t want to hurt himself even more. He didn’t dare to hope.

He wasn’t sure he would be able to hold on to what was left of his sanity if he did and it proved false.

 

As the hours passed, Arthur almost relaxed, sure that there couldn't possibly be any more surprises in store for him, but as he was sitting in the darkest corner of the western bastion, trying to keep his eyes open and trained on the synth, the door opened again. People came in and out a lot, bringing supplies and medications to Curie.

She… _it_ was speaking in a soft voice, thankful for the help. She smiled at Arthur, asked if he was comfortable. If he wanted to take a closer look at what she - _it_ \- was going. Curie was unexpectedly kind to him.

How could a machine be so… emotional?

Arthur mostly grunted in response, barely speaking ten words during the two days he was at the Castle. She kept chattering, however, describing everything she was doing.

“Madame likes ze sound of my voice. Her father was a French Canadian, and she finds my accent comforting.”

“Hm.”

Arthur didn’t turn when another person walked in. He could barely think anymore, still unable to sleep for longer than an hour at a time. The man stopped right next to Anna’s bed, however, and only then did Arthur look up.

He flew up from the chair in an instant. His head spun and his body screamed at him for the sudden movement. He had been sitting in that crude chair for the good portion of the day and his muscles and joints had stiffened.

The intruder didn’t react to his rising, still looking at Anna. His hand twitched as if he wanted to reach out and touch her.

“Danse,” whispered Arthur, his voice hoarse, “what the hell are _you_ doing here?”

Danse turned, his eyes dark and damp. “I thought you would protect her.”

Listening Post Bravo. That was the last time they had met. Years of friendship, mentorship, gone in an instant. But the shards were still there, tugging at his heart. His mind may have resolved to deny Danse’s existence, but his heart was another matter.

The disappointment in Danse’s voice was like being slapped across the face. And he was right, they were all right. Arthur was supposed to protect Anna, his partner, his love.

Arthur looked away, unable to say anything. There was nothing to say.

Danse would never have let this happen in the first place. Danse would have known about Virgil, Danse would have guarded the scientist day and night. Danse would have stopped Maddison Li. Danse would have known about Curie.

Danse would have never given up hope.

Danse - a machine, a synth - was a better man than Arthur could ever hope to be. Anna was right about that.

“I failed her,” he said, almost choking on the words, “I know it. I should have been smarter, more careful. I failed her twice, by letting it happen in the first place and by letting Virgil die on my watch. Rub it in my face if you must.”

“Arthur, that’s not why I’m here.”

He still couldn’t face him. Not after what Arthur did to him, and still, there was no anger in Danse’s voice.

“Why are you here then?”

“Look, there…”

“Excuze me!” Curie crossed her arms over her chest, frowning. She looked like she was about to explode, so tiny and so threatening at the same time. Arthur had no doubt it his mind the little synth would have no qualms dissecting him if it would further her scientific research. “You need to let me work in peace! Please take your conversation elsewhere!”

Danse muttered an apology and stepped back towards the door. Arthur hesitated for a few seconds before following him out.

He and Anna had pretended that Danse was executed. Arthur thought he would never see him again. Yet here he was, a dead man walking. What if someone had seen him? Arthur’s authority would forever be jeopardized. Granted, Danse had changed his appearance quite a bit. Dressed in mismatched leather armor, his hair pulled into a small ponytail on the back of the head, beard thick and untrimmed. He barely looked like himself anymore.

“Why are you here?” asked Arthur again, after the door closed behind them. But Danse kept walking. Arthur was briefly blinded by light as they came out into the courtyard. It took him a moment to realize that it was artificial light from large floodlights around the outer walls, not sunlight. He had lost all track of time inside the bastion.

Rubbing his eyes, Arthur looked at the former Paladin. Danse stood in front of him, watching.

“Who did this to her?”

“The Enclave. The toxin was engineered, too complex to be a natural mutation of the FEV.”

Danse’s expression darkened. “They were defeated a decade ago. There is nothing left of the Enclave. It can’t be them.”

“Who else would _do_ something like this?”

“And she said you were the smart one, Maxson. Guess that speaks volumes ‘bout the rest o’ your sorry bunch.”

Arthur turned around to see a pair of yellow eyes glowing bright in the armory hallway. A second later another synth stepped out into the light, but this one was completely different. No one in their sane mind would mistake him for a human. Plastic and metal body, inner parts sticking out, glowing eyes and a hard stare. The synth lit a cigarette and took a long drag.

“Detective Nick Valentine, thanks for asking. A friend of your girlie, an old friend.”

His orders had been to eliminate synths immediately on identification, and yet here was another that called Anna ‘friend’. How many more was she hiding from him?

“Old friend?” he asked, sharply. She had only been out of the Vault for a year, or a little over that.

Intense and shrewd, the synth’s yellow eyes seemed to look right into him as if reading his mind.

“A _very_ old friend.” Valentine flicked the cigarette, ash drifting to the ground. “But going back to whos and whys, think, dammit. Who would have a reason to want her dead?”

“Nobody,” said Arthur, frustrated. “Far more likely that I was the target, and Anna was caught up…”

“Wrong,” said Valentine. “If you’re willing to go to these lengths to get someone out of the picture, you don’t just accidentally get the wrong someone. Now. Think about it. There anyone who might not want her around, someone who might not want that fact known?”

Danse cleared his throat.

“Arthur, you are the last Maxson. The order’s leadership would not approve of you marrying outside the Brotherhood. Especially the West.”

“That’s impossible,” said Arthur. The suggestion was absurd, and that it came from a synth made it utterly intolerable. He turned away, but was stopped by a single glance from Danse’s dark eyes.

“Listen to me, Arthur,” he said. His voice was quiet and composed. his face lined with determination.

Arthur’s chest ached, the shattered memories of friendship weakening his resolve.

“I was there,” said Danse. “Eleven years ago, when Daphne handed the vial of modified FEV to Elder Lyons. I saw it happen. The Brotherhood was in possession of it, until Owyn’s death at least.”

“And that was nine years ago, Danse. A lot has happened since then.”

“Yes,” said Danse. “A lot has happened. Surely you remember the disorder after Sarah’s death? Three years of constant conflict between the next Brotherhood hopefuls attempting to establish themselves as Elder? Who knows what went missing during that chaos?”

“Someone must have squirreled the toxin away until they needed to use it. Who gave you the idea it was the Enclave in the first place?”

 _Lancer-Captain Kells_. His most trusted advisor, his second-in-command.

“There is no way it’s true,” he muttered, shaking his head. He just could not believe what Danse and Valentine were proposing. He did not want to believe it. This was high treason. This was not how the Brotherhood should conduct itself. But what they were saying _made sense_. It felt like the world was crumbling around Arthur. His entire life in ashes. Everything and everyone he believed in - a lie.

“Maxson-”

“No!” said Arthur, walking away from the synths. “I refuse to believe these heinous accusations. You are trying to turn me away from the Brotherhood. I won’t stand for this.”

“Damn it, Arthur!” said Danse. “It’s not about you! It’s about Anna! “If she survives, what then? Are you going to take her back to the Citadel and wait for them to try again?!”

“Let him be, son,” said Valentine, his gruff voice following Arthur as he walked away. “He needs time.”

“You have to protect her,” said Danse.

Arthur kept walking. He needed to get away, to think. It was all lies. They were planting seeds of doubt in his mind to weaken him. As if he would ever trust a synth.

But what if it wasn’t? What would it mean for him? What would it mean for the Brotherhood?

Arthur made his way up onto the Castle wall, circling around until he came up to the northern battlement. The Prydwen was clearly visible from across the bay, lit up by electric lamps. The Castle had a few flood lights, but still mostly relied on the oil lamps, their light softer and warmer than those up on the airship.

A single guard patrolled the walls, passing behind Arthur, nodding as he did so. For a brief moment, he saw himself reflected in the man’s sunglasses.

How different he must look now.

This was the same spot on which he had stood not a month ago when snow was falling and a harsh wind blowing in from the ocean. The evening light had colored the world in a purple hue. Anna had smiled as she looked into his eyes. There was fear in them, but courage too.

_Your answer, Arthur Maxson. Yes, a thousand times, yes._

His fingers reached up for the black bandana around his neck, grasping it tightly. His head was swimming, the words of the two synths echoing inside his mind. It couldn’t be true.

The Brotherhood were his family. He was being goaded into distrust toward them. Danse knew more than enough to play on his fears and doubts. But… what if he had been fooled from the start? Danse must have seen a lot of things he couldn’t have, either when he was too young to be included, or too busy with his duties as Elder.

Was he betraying the Brotherhood, even thinking about the possibility of the order being involved in this? Or was he the one being betrayed? He had no answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter theme: [John Dreamer - Rise](https://youtu.be/qXJf6CVj4FM)
> 
> This chapter was a hard one and kudos to Kicker for making it make sense!


	9. Temperance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Temperance (XIV)** \- balance. Moderation. Coordination. Adaptation.

Screaming. Darkness closing in. Someone was calling for help, calling his name.

He could never see them properly, but those shadows surrounded him, mocking him, always just out of reach. He tried to fight it but there was nothing but thin air. He had no weapons or armor. There was no light.

Arthur’s eyes flew open as he felt a light touch on his shoulder. He lashed out at the person in front of him.

“Ouch! Shit, Maxson…” Preston Garvey backed off, grasping the bookshelf for support. He rubbed his just punched stomach. “Do you always do that?”

Arthur eased himself out of the armchair and cringed at the stiffness. Sharp pinpricks ran through the nerves all over his body.

“What is it, General?” He ignored the question Garvey had asked him.

“Curie needs to see you.”

Arthur went still, mortified. Had something happened? Good or bad? Considering his previous experiences, it was not likely to be anything good. He never had any luck.

Arthur looked away, trying to brace himself for a blow that was about to come when he would face the little synth. And then he felt a reassuring pat on his back. His eyes widened. It was the General, reaching out in a friendly gesture.

“Everything is going to be fine, Elder.”

Arthur didn’t know how to react. Was he supposed to say something? This was out of his understanding. He simply nodded, unsure.

“You know the way?”

“I… yes. Thank you, General.”

Garvey didn’t follow him when Arthur stepped out into the courtyard, cold air cutting into his lungs. Perhaps Curie wanted him to hear the news first.

If she could want or wish anything. It was harder and harder to remember that she was a machine, an artificial life. But she was alive. Arthur shook his head, pulling his coat close around him.

He pushed the door into the West bastion and was greeted by a breath of warmth in his face. The air smelled of dust, old paper and antiseptic. An unusual combination that only reminded him that the Castle lacked any proper medical facilities or a lab.

Curie was busy at her station, taking notes. Noticing him, she tucked her pen behind her ear and smiled.

“Monsieur Maxson! Zere you are. I have great news!”

She held up a small vial full of semi-clear liquid. It had a yellow tint to it. “I believe I have ze right formula. I wanted you to be here. Madame Anne would too, I know zat.”

The little synth was beaming. Arthur felt like there was not enough air to breathe. He screwed his eyes shut, but when he opened them Curie still had the vial in her hands. He bit the side of his cheek. The slight pain told him it was not a dream… most likely.

“Then do it,” he rasped, coming closer.

Curie’s face expression changed. Now that he knew she wasn’t programmed for this body, it made sense. She was still learning her way around, and emotions showed on her face clear as day.

“She is weak, monsieur. Even with ze serum, it’s been too long. She might not have the strength left.”

He could see that. Anna’s face looked gaunt and pale, and even under the blanket, he could tell that she had lost a lot of weight. Her body burned itself to keep fighting.

“Do it, Curie. Time’s wasting.”

She nodded and inserted a syringe into a vial. Filling it, she flicked it with her finger, getting the air bubbles out. Curie stepped closer and inserted a needle into her IV.

As liquid left the syringe, Curie turned to Arthur.

“And now we wait.”

“How long?”

“Unknown. It is an experimental treatment, and she is ze only subject. It is uncertain how long would it take for her to react. In ze meantime, I would strongly recommend for you to rest, monsieur. You are exhibiting ze signs of extreme sleep deprivation.”

“I can’t. Not while she is in this state. I need to be here, Curie.”

She clicked her tongue.

“Now, now, zere is no argument here. It wil’ take hours. Your body is at its limit.”

“I’m-”

A needle pierced his neck right above the collar or his coat. His alertness level was indeed low, as he had never noticed her approach. Arthur jumped away, but the syringe in Curie’s hand was already half-empty.

“What the hell are you doing?!” He rubbed the sight of injection, his free hand tightening in a fist. Garvey’s threat resonated in his mind. Curie was off-limits… no matter what she does. Not unless he wanted to stay by Anna’s side. But she...

“Doctor’s orders,” his eyelids were suddenly heavy, “hush now.”

She _drugged_ him. He was at her mercy should she choose to do anything.

Arthur fell against the wall, and slowly slid down. He saw through his lashes as Curie opened the door and called for someone. It took all his willpower to stay awake, even barely.

“Monsieur, please escort our guest to his quarters.”

“Damn. Now how’d you do that, sweetheart? You’re more dangerous than you let on.”

She giggled in response. Arthur felt someone grabbing him by the hand and trying to lift him up. He tried to support himself, but the drug had robbed him of all control over his limbs.

“Big boy… Now, sweetie, when I told you I had a strong back I didn’t really have _this_ in mind.”

Arthur fell forward, hitting his head on someone’s shoulder. A whiff of machine oil, some grease smearing on his face, the metal buckle of the overalls scratching his scarred cheek.

“And… up we go.”

The person he was leaning against dropped down and hooked his arms under his knees before straightening up with a strained grunt. The floor disappeared from under his feet and the swaying seemed dangerous…

Oh, no.

Arthur was awake just enough to realize what was happening. Oh, _no_.

He was the Elder of the Brotherhood of Steel. He would not going to get piggybacked into the bed. No, no, no. Arthur’s body bucked against Sturges’ back with what strength he had left, his arms and legs flailing.

“Shit! You stop that!...”

“Monsieur!...”

He felt the tilt. And then the world went dark.

 

He had a feeling of deja vu, waking up to Preston Garvey shaking his shoulder. This time, the General jumped away, however, as soon as Arthur’s eyes opened. But his dreams were blissfully empty. No fire, no fighting, no screams. Just inky blackness.

“Just checking in,” Garvey flashed him a friendly smile, “you were out for an entire day. Curie said you shouldn’t get too bad of a concussion from that kiss with a wall. So we all thought you should join us for dinner. We’d look pretty bad if we let the Brotherhood’s Elder to starve.”

Kiss with a wall? Arthur touched the left side of his head and felt a small bump. It all came back to him in a rush and he felt himself getting flushed.

“I think I’m done embarrassing myself for today,” mumbled Arthur, rubbing his injury, “they all seen it, didn’t they?”

“Oh, that… er, yeah. And you are pretty hard to mistake for someone else, for sure.”

“I… I think I’m going to pass on your offer, General.”

“Alright then. If you change your mind just follow the noise, Elder.” Garvey tipped his hat with a broad smile and walked out, not closing the door behind him. Letting in some of the voices, laughter, and clatter. Letting in some delicious smells of roasting meats, freshly baked bread and hearty stew.

Arthur sighed, giving in. The world seemed devoid of colors and smells in the weeks prior, black and white and sickly green. He could use some change, those scents and sounds luring him closer, like a moth to the flame.

After splashing his face with some water, Arthur walked out of the room. The evening light was slowly burning itself away, and the Castle courtyard was ablaze with warm lanterns. People gathered around makeshift tables, chatting and laughing. This whole place had spoken of something he knew, yet couldn’t recognize. It was warm and welcoming, open and kind.

_Home_.

Not the home he was used to. His home was cold and strict, built out of metal and concrete and order. A place to live and serve. He lived in the Citadel, then on the Prydwen. Had he ever known a real home? These people, these Minutemen, they didn’t know their luck.

When he tried to think of a home now, he thought of Anna. His very idea of it was now tied to her. He didn’t want a home where she would not be.

He watched from the sidelines as people he recognized had gathered around the table. He saw Danse, patting Curie on the back. Nick Valentine, even though he had no need of food, sitting beside them. Sturges, excitedly telling them something in between large bites and sometimes during them.

He had no place there.

Just as he was about to head back inside, Sturges noticed him, standing by the door. The mechanic smiled and waved at him.

“C'mon in, Maxson! This radstag roast is great!”

Now that they have noticed him, it would be considered rude to turn around and walk away, and Arthur’s growling stomach had significantly weakened his resolve, even making him feel a little lightheaded. He grabbed a chipped plate and joined a short line. The cook smirked at him over dark sunglasses and poured him some stew. He looked vaguely familiar for some reason, but Arthur paid no mind to it.

He nodded to the people at the table, stiffly, awkwardly. Danse and Valentine were watching him intensely as if reminding him about the conversation a few days ago. With his head a little clearer now, after finally getting some rest, he could see more clearly the connections they had made.

He didn’t want them to be true. But he could not unsee them now, and his mind was churning on its own accord.

Sturges grinned at him, pulling him out of his thoughts.

“You’re a helluva lot heavier than you look, Maxson.”

Arthur looked down at his bowl, mixing the stew with a spoon and feeling his ears warming up.

“That’s his coat, Sturges,” he heard Danse say, “it would add twenty or so pounds.”

“Damn, I didn’t think ‘bout that one. Look, sorry I, uh, dropped you.”

“No harm done. I _think_.”

Sturges and Danse laughed, and even Valentine cracked a smile. Arthur was surprised to see Danse in such a good mood. But he had spied Danse’s old power armor at the docking bay a while ago. He hadn’t known what Anna had done with it, but it was clear now. She’d brought it back to its owner.

With a twinge of sad acceptance, he spied a musket and lightning bolt insignia stenciled onto the breastplate instead of the gears, wings, and sword.

“Hey, I saw the gauss rifle you carried with you when you came to the Castle. She’s a beauty, ain’t she?”

“Yes,” he didn’t really want to go into the topic any further.

“Well, I’m glad it turned out good. I made the design for it.”

“You what?”

Sturges winked at him.

“Anna wanted it to be special. So she came to me for help. All of us, actually.”

Danse and Valentine nodded, watching him. Arthur’s eyebrow quirked up.

“All of you?”

“Well, there was also Mac. And Deacon. Even Hancock.”

He found it somewhat unlikely. He wasn’t the most popular person in the Commonwealth, he knew that much. Synths and ghouls had no reason to be friendly with him. But they did it for Anna anyway. Even if they probably knew what and who the weapon was for.

They did it for her.

“Why? Why would you help?”

Sturges gave a sudden short laugh.

“You have _no idea_ how bad the lives of the surroundin’ people can get when Anna is not in the mood.”

“I actually have an idea,” muttered Arthur, looking down at his bowl of stew, “I have a few scars to remind me of it.”

“Well… the kid was like a walkin’ storm cloud,” said the synth detective, with a wry smile. “Actually, even worse. Storm clouds don’t beat people to death with a sledgehammer.”

“A… _sledgehammer_?”

“Yeah. Strong’s idea. He said that, uh, ‘if puny human need punch people to death, do it with hammer’, if I recall correctly. I think she was workin’ the stress out.”

Arthur sat in a stunned silence. He never thought… he never thought that she was just as miserable during their time apart as he was.

“When we learned you two idiots finally figured it out, everyone was relieved. So we kinda jumped on the opportunity to help her. You’re a jackass, Maxson, but you make the girl happy. And that’s all that matters.”

Arthur stared at the old synth, not quite believing what he was hearing. To the side of Valentine, Danse nodded solemnly. The former Paladin had the look on his face that Arthur could only interpret as a repressed jealousy. Danse loved Anna too.

They all did, in their own ways.

And suddenly, he felt like he was starving.

 

He radioed the Prydwen almost every day, listening to Kells’ reports. Arthur was a lot more careful now, making sure not to slip any information about anything that was happening at the Castle right now. Valentine’s voice was nagging him at the back of his mind.

_Who gave you the idea it was the Enclave in the first place?_

Perhaps he was a fool to let the synth to get into his head. Perhaps not. The days he spent in the Castle made him think. His perspective changed when he saw Curie sleeping at her desk, a pile of papers and notes under her head. When he saw Danse sitting by Anna’s bed for hours. When he listened to Nick Valentine and noted the undeniable fatherly tone he in which he spoke of her.

_It_. They were… weren’t they?

“Monsieur Maxson!” Curie burst into his room, making him jump up. There was a bright smile on the girl’s lips. She grabbed his arm and dragged him out of the room and towards West bastion. Arthur’s heart was beating high in his throat.

“Is she awake?” he asked, finally letting himself hope.

The door opened before him, but Anna was still in her bed, her eyes closed. Curie beckoned him closer and opened Anna’s eye. He could see her pupil contracting from the large black pool of darkness into a small dot. He could see the golden-brown iris again.

Curie took out a pen from behind her ear and pressed down on the base of her nail with it, eliciting a quiet groan from Anna.

“She is coming out! Slowly, but she does. I expect her to wake up within a week or so.” Curie smiled at him again, her blue eyes sparkling.

Arthur’s knees suddenly felt weak and he dropped down by the side of Anna’s bed, burying his face in the covers. She will _live_.

“Is she going to be alright now?” His voice was just a whisper, hoarse. Curie didn’t answer, and he looked up. The synth girl was fiddling with her pen as if it was suddenly the most interesting thing in existence.

“Zere is no way to correctly assess the damage until she wakes up. I… I can’t tell if she will be ze same, or if her body will be able to go back to normal.”

“I see.”

Arthur reached out to touch Anna’s face. Her skin was no longer burning. The fever was gone, the toxin neutralized. She would wake up soon.

But that also meant that whoever was trying to kill her had failed. She was in danger again. Arthur needed to deal with the enemy and make sure that she was safe. What Danse and Valentine had said about the Western Elders… what if it was really true?

What if they really wanted her dead? That meant…

He got up on his feet. Pressing a quick kiss to Anna’s forehead, he nodded to Curie and walked out, his mind finally liberated.

 

Arthur was standing on the battlements, looking at the bay again. Danse walked up to him. He seemed uncertain. They never spoke in private ever since that first time when he and Valentine confronted Arthur... and he shot them down.

A couple of phrases between the two of them was all there was before someone would interrupt or join the conversation. As if they were afraid they would break into a fight.

A duffel bag was sitting at Arthur’s feet, waiting. As soon as he noticed Danse approach, Arthur threw a signal grenade over the wall. A puff of red smoke fluttered in the wind.

“What happened? You’re leaving? But Anna…”

“ _I_ am leaving.”

Danse looked puzzled. In the distance, Arthur could see the vertibird detaching from under the airship’s belly.

“I can’t bring her to the Capital Wasteland. You…” Arthur took a deep breath, steeling himself. “You were right. She is in danger. I can’t risk it. I’m going back alone to deal with it.”

Danse traced his gaze to the approaching vertibird. They didn’t have much time.

“Thank you, Arthur. Thank you for listening.”

“I didn’t want to believe it. But I gave it some thought… a lot of thought. It makes sense. Whoever that was that wanted her dead, they failed. I will go alone and make sure there are no more threats to her.”

“Alone?”

“I don’t know who to trust anymore. Danse…”

He could already hear the distant crackling of the vertibird’s engines.

“Don’t contact me. I will come for her when the danger is passed. I cannot know who is listening to the transmissions, so don’t do it, even if it’s an emergency. It might be dangerous, for her or for me.”

“Understood.”

Danse didn’t have to take his orders, he was in exile now. And yet he stood straighter, his gaze hard and focused.

“And Danse?” He said softly, watching the ‘bird come closer and closer before shifting and turning to face his old friend, “if I don’t come back, please… take care of her.”

His eyes widened at the request. Arthur knew that the fight he was entering now would be different from anything he had ever known before. He had to ensure at least some peace of mind. A small solace in knowing that Anna would be taken care of should things go horribly wrong.

“I… yes, Arthur. You have my word.”

“Thank you.” He hesitated for a moment, but the roar of engines spurred him on, reminding him that there was no time left. Arthur extended his hand towards him, trying not to look awkward or unsure. He failed.

Danse looked at his opened palm with a dumbfounded expression. To Arthur’s relief, he accepted the handshake after a second or so. And then Danse suddenly pulled him closer and clasped him in a tight embrace.

It was Arthur’s turn to pause. But he hugged his friend back, and it felt _right_.

The vertibird was landing by the Castle. Arthur let go of Danse, stepped back avoiding his gaze and picked up his duffel bag. Running down the stairs, he walked through the gates, nodding to Preston Garvey and Curie. He had already discussed his departure with them, and yet they still came to see him off.

Like they were… _friends_.

Arthur climbed into the vertibird. Paladin Rhys was there, and he looked lost. Scared almost, seeing that Arthur had come alone.

“Elder… the Sentinel?”

Arthur took in a deep breath, frowning and closing his eyes. He didn’t know who he could trust. Not Kells, not Rhys or even Ingram. None of them could know if he was to get to the bottom of this. If he was to keep Anna safe, if he was to ensure their future. This was his fight, and this was where it would start.

_Let the games begin._

“The Sentinel is dead,” he said coldly, harshly, and saw all the color drain from Rhys’ face. The words alone hurt to say out loud. But there was no other way. “Move out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter theme: [John Dreamer - True Strength](https://youtu.be/oVWBFkaXMyw)


	10. The Hierophant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **The Hierophant (V)** \- conformity. Tradition. Older figure that urges to stay true to the heritage.

 

Arthur had repeated the lie far too many times already. It didn’t make it hurt any less, to say it over and over. Each time he said the words, cold surged through his heart.

_Yes, the Sentinel is dead. No, Minutemen couldn’t help. Yes, we are leaving now. No, she will be buried beside her first husband as per her last wish._

_No, I will not be attending._

The pitying looks he was getting from the crew were sickening. Nobody dared to even say her name out loud anymore. Not when he was within earshot, at least. They all assumed he was heartbroken, hurt and extremely angry.

Good. At least that meant they left him alone for a while. All the better to think up his plan of action.

Arthur had Kells radio the Citadel, to tell them that Anna was dead and he was coming home. Perhaps it would make his enemies relax. Maybe become less cautious. Make a mistake.

He needed an opening. He needed… something.

He continued his usual duties, all the while keeping an eye out on the people he thought he could trust with his life. Looking over his shoulder.

Part of him still doubted. The accusations did came from a synth, more than one synth… and yet they made so much sense.

All of this meant he would have to fight a war of shadows. He was never trained for that, he was no politician. Politicians ruined the old world. He was not going to hammer the last nail in the coffin of the planet, not intentionally, at the very least.

Or so he thought. Now he knew that he would bring the people who hurt the woman he loved to justice even if he was dooming the world.

Days flowed into each other as they flew south. From one day to the next, Arthur could not recall what exactly he had done. But the ship kept flying, and order was maintained, and that was probably the most important thing.

He had been so happy traveling this way but a month ago. The future had seemed so bright. Hopeful. He was a fool. He should have been more careful. He should have been smarter.

Arthur took the black trench coat from the locker and smoothed it out with his fingers, the fabric shimmering lightly with silvery threads. By this time she should be awake, or so Curie said. She is _awake_ , and he is not there.

Even if it was for her own good, he had _left_ her. He had failed her twice already. Was this truly for her benefit, or was this to be the third?

And suddenly he couldn’t look at the coat anymore. Stuffing it back into the locker, he slammed the door shut, sending the sound ringing through the sparsely furnished room.

 

He had read in a book that people of the old world dressed in black when in mourning. His current outfit seemed appropriately gloomy. Arthur wore his black officer uniform, leaving the battle coat back on the Prydwen. The only other thing was a simple black bandana tied around his neck.

Anna’s bandana. The thing that had inadvertently brought them together. A farewell gift that ended up being a beginning. He wasn’t really a sentimental type, but this meant more than that.

Whenever he felt his resolve faltering, he would touch the fabric and remind himself of why he fights.

Alright, that was pretty damned sentimental.

A knock on the door. It opened to reveal his new Initiate, Sidney Reilly, carrying a tray of food. This one had recently been recruited from the Commonwealth. The Knight that had vouched for him had been killed in action soon after, in a scrap with some Gen-1s. That had left the Initiate without a sponsor, but Arthur decided to take him on nonetheless.

He needed someone around him who he knew would not be affiliated with the conspirators. A completely new recruit, fresh from the Commonwealth would do perfectly.

Reilly was, admittedly,a bit too old to be an Initiate. Completely bald and lean, the man was a little elusive about what he used to do before joining, but his skills with small arms were impeccable. He could have been a raider at one point, or a mercenary.

It didn’t really matter to Arthur.

“We’re arriving in D.C. shortly, sir,” said Reilly softly, setting the tray on the table. Arthur looked back over his shoulder, shutting down the terminal.

“There’s a lot of talk about the late Sentinel. Seems like she was alright.”

Arthur threw a careful glance up at the Initiate. He didn’t know. “Yes, she was… Thank you. Please tell Lancer-Captain Kells that I will be joining him shortly.”

“Yes, sir.”

Reilly stopped by the door for a brief moment, looking at him. He then smirked and walked out. Arthur raised an eyebrow at the closing door.

After a short briefing with Kells, Arthur left the Prydwen on a vertibird and headed straight for the Citadel. He had no immediate plan. For the time being, his only task was to try to assess the situation.

Hopefully, with the news of Anna’s demise, his opponents would have dropped their guard.

Reilly followed him around silently as a shadow when they stepped into the Bailey. Casdin and Rothchild were already there, conversing quietly. Henry nodded to Arthur, his face grimmer than usual.

“Arthur, my boy,” said the Head Scribe, stepping toward him. Rothchild was so old and thin it seemed a gust of wind could tip him over. “So sorry to hear about your loss. She would have made a great Maxson. The Commander is out in the field, but he sends his condolences as well, and so do the Elders of the West.”

“Thank you, Head Scribe,” answered Arthur.

“It seems like the position of the Sentinel in this chapter is quite… perilous..”

“Indeed,” Arthur nodded, picking up the pace, hearing the old Scribe’s breath quicken behind him. With any luck, that would make him shut up. “I would like to conduct a briefing in my quarters. How was the situation in the chapter during my absence?”

“Well enough... We weren’t... planning on your… departure, but we just... continued as normal.”

“Was there any unrest?” Arthur threw a cautious look at the Scribe over the shoulder, who shook his head.

“Not at all, Elder.”

“ _Bullshit_.”

Casdin caught up with them easily. The other Elder was clad in his usual power armor, and his face was especially sour.

“I had to play a fucking babysitter to the troops, and so did Tristan. Small skirmishes broke out all over the chapter. Everyone had an opinion on what was happening, everyone was at each other’s throat. I’d say there was a _lot_ of “unrest”. Too weak of a word, actually.”

Arthur’s hard stare turned to Rothchild.

“Please explain, Head Scribe.”

“Nothing to concern... yourself with, Elder. It’s all over now. I... didn’t think it was worth mentioning.”

They passed the A-ring and came close to the Solar. Swinging the door open, Arthur walked in and reached for a dusty bottle of scotch. His quarters could use some cleaning. After over a year of absence - not counting his short return a month ago - his rooms didn’t look lived in at all.

“I’d like Proctor Quinlan to be here when we conduct the briefing,” said Arthur, pouring himself some scotch. Anna always said he drank too much. He always shrugged in response.

It took Rothchild a moment to catch his breath.

“I’m sorry, Elder Maxson, but it’s impossible. Proctor Quinlan requested a transfer to the Western chapter shortly after your departure.”

“What?” His head snapped up in response. That was… unusual. Quinlan _never_ abandoned his work.

“There was a major discovery in the state of Maxson, in the New California Republic. Diplomacy is still a bit of a concern, but NCR and the order are no longer openly hostile. The Proctor volunteered to head over there and lead the expedition. Sadly, there is no way to contact them at the moment.”

“How… unexpected of him,” said Arthur, looking at Rothchild over the rim of his glass.

Casdin shook his head. “I have a feeling some people were threatening him. He was stuck in the middle of the Citadel and the Prydwen’s people, mitigating the damage as best he could. Can’t blame him too much for wanting out. Shitty place to be in.”

“I see,” muttered Arthur, “Paladin-Commander?”

“Out in the field, checking the leads on the Enclave.”

“Personally?” Arthur raised his eyebrow, swirling the golden liquid in his glass.

“Indeed. He felt responsible for letting the Sentinel be hurt on his watch.”

Arthur nodded, looking into his glass. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Casdin and Rothchild trading glances. Reilly was an unmoving blotch of orange by the door to whom neither of the officials paid any mind. The Initiate might as well have been a piece of furniture to them.

Good.

“Very well. I expect reports of the chapter’s status on my desk by tomorrow. Please inform me when the Commander returns from the field. And,” he turned to Casdin, “I want every available soldier out in the field, searching for the Enclave. Everyone.”

“That would leave the Citadel undefended,” protested Casdin.

“Who would dare to attack us? The more people we have in the field the better.”

“Very well,” grunted the older man, “have it your way. Can’t blame you, though. Bastards will get what’s coming for them.”

“Yes,” he looked Casdin in the eye, and then turned his gaze to Rothchild as well, “yes they will.”

Perhaps it was a bit reckless of him to say that. But let them think he wasn’t even giving the other possibilities any thought. He watched Casdin and Rothchild move towards the door, right past the new Initiate without sparing him even a glance.

“One more thing,” said the Head Scribe, when he was almost through the door. “As I mentioned, the Western chapter sends their condolences for your loss, but they remind you that you are now indeed of an age to marry. They have tasked me to find you a suitable bride. The Maxson bloodline must not be extinguished.”

The glass, its contents still untouched, thumped on the wooden table with force.

“Are you out of your damn mind?” He was seething, “I have just buried the woman I love.”

“It’s not about love, Elder. It’s about the preservation of your family name...” he heard Rothchild gulping in more air, no doubt to continue his tirade.

“We’re done here,” said Arthur, heading for his desk. “Reilly, close the damn door.”

The Initiate performed the task without question.

“Looks like someone’s happy about how shit’s gone down,” murmured Reilly, the door lock responding with a sharp click. “Just a thought.”

“Indeed,” responded Arthur, booting up his terminal.

"You know, Elder,” said the Initiate, “if you want me to keep an eye out, or an ear, or whatever sensory-related appendages might provide useful information in this particular set of circumstances, I could do that. Just so you know.”.

Arthur had noted that Reilly’s steps were all but silent, as well as his ability to go unnoticed right in front of someone’s eyes. And he desperately needed help from someone capable. It wasn’t like he could walk around undetected himself. But a new, unknown Initiate with a sense of initiative...

Previously, he would have looked to Anna for her expertise, but that was obviously not an option. Now Reilly had appeared at his side at the perfect time with the perfect skillset.

Perhaps it was fate, playing with him. If so, he would wait to see the quality of the cards it dealt before deciding his reaction.

“Very well,” he replied, after a long pause. Sidney Reilly nodded, pulling a pair of sunglasses from a pocket of his uniform, and saluted neatly before slipping out the door.

 

It was disturbingly easy to forget about the danger, to slip back into the usual routine. It was as if this place, his _home_ , wanted to put his worries to sleep. It could never have happened, his mind whispered. The conspiracy, the plot, the poisoning. It can’t be true.

And yet it did happen.

Reilly brought him his dinner, as had become normal over the past few weeks - on and off the Prydwen - and was telling him about intelligence he had gathered during the day. Some Knights were extorting passing merchants. Some Scribes were pocketing tech. Some Lancers took joyrides over the Potomac to jump down into the river from their vertibirds.

That was something to look into, but it hardly mattered on a larger scale. He nodded, interrupting the endless string of descriptive adjectives.

“Good job, soldier. Keep at it.”

“Yessir,” said Reilly, with a half-smile. “The Brotherhood sure likes to play politics, huh?”

“I’m not a politician,” Arthur responded, breaking a piece off a razorgrain bread, “politicians brought the world to this state.”

“You’re not, sure. But I can think of some others who are. Or want to be.”

Before he could come up with a suitable response, there was a sharp knock on the door. Arthur frowned. He wasn’t expecting any visitors.

“Open it.”

Reilly turned the handle and was almost hit by the door swinging open. The Initiate jumped away just in time. He had some good reflexes, that was for certain.

Henry Casdin was already half-way across the room.

Arthur rose from his seat, surprised by the precipitous advance, unusual for Casdin. “Henry,” he said, “how can I help?”

Casdin’s face was grim, a deep crease set between his brows.

“Close the door,” he said, aiming the words over his shoulder at Reilly, “and get out.”

The Initiate quickly made himself scarce.

Casdin was out of his power armor, which was quite unusual in of itself. The other Elder paced around the room for a moment before stopping right in the middle of it.

“Hear me out, Arthur, but I think there is something going on here. I don’t believe the Enclave has its fingers in the plot that killed your woman. I think,” and as he spoke his frown deepened even more, “I think it’s an inside job.”

Arthur’s eyes widened. Henry Casdin wasn’t built for lies and deception. He was a simple man with a simple worldview. When he disagreed with Owyn Lyons, he took his men and left, he didn’t plot and scheme to overthrow the Elder. He always took the most direct route.

He and Arthur were alike in a lot of ways. That was one of the reasons he had been able to convince Casdin to rejoin the Brotherhood.

So he knew that Casdin wouldn’t lie. He really thought something was off about the whole Enclave story and had come to him with this idea even though he risked being called a traitor.

“If you want to declare my idea high treason, do what you must,” said Casdin, as if reading his mind “But you’re smart enough to know something smells like sour Brahmin milk.”

Arthur nodded, slowly. “I have considered that, yes.” He didn’t mention who exactly gave him the idea, however. “I came back to seek what proof I could. It’s quite a relief to know I’m not alone in my suspicions.”

“It stinks,” said Casdin, dropping into a chair and reaching for an open bottle.

Arthur studied the other Elder silently.

“What about Tristan and Rothchild?”

“Tristan wouldn’t keep a secret even if he’d be paid his weight in caps to do so,” chuckled Casdin, “the man is a terrible gossip.”

“No, he wouldn’t,” said Arthur, “Rothchild, on the other hand…”

“He’s the one who communicates with the West, ninety-nine percent of the time. There was one time he lost his voice from an infection. I had to get on the comms instead. Those were two hours of my life I won’t get back.”

“You think they influenced him?”

“Not immediately, no. But maybe over time. Over quite a long time. But I imagine after Owyn’s death Reginald was vulnerable to their arguments.”

Arthur nodded, searching for a clue in the bottom of his glass. He found none.

“You think we could question him?”

“With all due respect, Arthur,” said Casdin, “we have no proof of those things. You can’t declare Rothchild a traitor without some serious evidence behind it. Or you’ll be splitting the chapter in two. I hate to admit it, but Rothchild commands a lot of respect. He was one of the people who crossed the continent with Lyons. He’s been the Head Scribe longer than you’ve been alive, boy.”

Arthur knew Henry was right. The warning was very true, every word of it. He had to find something first… but what? All he had was a theory based on the suppositions of two synths.

“Proof will be hard to come by,” Arthur agreed reluctantly. “We have to find someone willing to talk.”

“Rothchild is a shrewd man. Be careful, Arthur. We’ll have to find a way to question his people without attracting too much attention…”

Neither of them noticed the door opening.

“I believe I can help with that.”

“Proctor Quinlan?” Casdin jumped up from his seat, “I thought you were transferred to the Western chapter!”

But Arthur’s eyes were locked onto a woman that was standing beside the disheveled Proctor and Sidney Reilly, who had probably been listening to the whole exchange.

Dusty leather armor. Sniper rifle behind her shoulder. A sun-faded hat sitting askew on her head. None of it was familiar.

It was the smile that he recognized in an instant.

She walked up to him, her hips swinging gently. Arthur was at a loss for words. She paused, looking at him, studying him. Her smile was getting wider and wider.

“Well, look at you. All grown up… and Elder, too!”

She reached up and… ruffled his hair affectionately. Arthur’s eyes widened in shock, air leaving his lungs. His voice refused to obey his command, and yet he managed to cough out a single word. It had been almost a decade since he had spoken her name out loud.

“... _Daphne_?”


	11. The Fool

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **The Fool (XXII or 0)** \- the choice. New beginnings. A free spirit. Leap of faith.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It had been too long...

It was a forgotten dream that he had years ago, never quite able to let go of it. It all came back in force, like a staggering blow to the chest.  
  
Years would pass. Seasons would change. He would finally be old enough for her to notice. Strong and capable, not just a little kid that wouldn’t even reach her shoulder. She would return from her travels, wherever they were. She would waltz right back into the Citadel like she had never left. Smiling, confident. As perfect as the last time he had seen her. He'd open the door and see her standing there. He won't be greeted only by dead silence anymore.  
  
She would look him in the eye, for the first time seeing him, really _seeing_ him. She would smile and say that she had missed him.  
  
And here she was. He was taller than her now. She was the one to be on the level with his shoulder. Leather armor was hugging Daphne’s figure snuggly, blue Vault suit long gone. Ends of her red hair were faded into gold by the sun. Soft brown eyes were studying him.

As if she couldn’t quite believe what she saw.  
  
He changed a lot.  
  
She didn’t.  
  
“Oh my,” her smile was getting mischievous and his heart made a leap in his chest. Daphne tilted her head playfully, “you remember little old me? I’m flattered.”  
  
_Always. How could I ever forget you_. She knew, he was most certain of that. She always knew… everything. Arthur couldn't say a word, couldn't look away. He just stood there, petrified. Unable to do anything but look in her eyes, not noticing or caring how much time had passed.  
  
Suddenly, Casdin snorted, breaking the spell and the world around Arthur returned back into motion.  
  
“Anyone who had _ever_ met you is sure to remember, Wanderer.” And he was right.  
  
_Wait for the nomad_ , he recalled the crazy old woman say to him at the Castle. The nomad... the _Wanderer_. Drifting from place to place, never staying for long.  
  
Daphne’s gaze shifted toward the other Elder. She narrowed her eyes and bit her plump lip thoughtfully.  
  
“Who were you again?” she asked, unsure. Casdin rolled his eyes. But before he could answer, she burst into laughter. “Of course I remember you. And I’m surprised to see that you are still kicking, Casdin.”  
  
The Elder huffed in annoyance.  
  
“I’m not _that_ old.”  
  
She smiled and winked at Casdin. Arthur couldn't help but notice how seductive it was. How seductive _everything_ she did was. Daphne was passion made flesh. Back when he was a kid and didn't know anything he didn't notice it so much… but he did now.  
  
And it made jealousy rise it's hissing head in his chest.  
  
_What the hell am I doing?!_  
  
He screwed his eyes shut, rubbing his forehead. _Anna_. She was still in a coma the last time he had seen her. And he forbade communication with him, for her sake. To keep her safe and hidden until the situation would be resolved and the danger passed.  
  
There was no way of knowing if Anna was awake. If she had gotten better after he left.  
  
He swore he would come for her when it was all over. When he was sure nothing else was lurking in the shadows, threatening the woman he loved. He couldn’t lose her again.  
  
“Arthur?”  
  
He opened his eyes to find Daphne standing right in front of him. He gasped, backing away. She giggled, sending a sudden shiver down his spine. His body was reacting unexpectedly to her proximity.  
  
A blush was creeping up his neck. She was of the same age as Anna, his mind reminded him dutifully. And Anna found him attractive enough… it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that Daphne would too…  
  
Arthur wanted to slap himself awake. He was completely unable to stop that train of thought. Not with her standing _right there_ , smirking at him with that _knowing_ look on her face, a decade of fantasy in the flesh.  
  
“Proctor,” Casdin’s voice was a welcome distraction. Arthur had completely forgotten about Quinlan. “What the hell happened to you?”  
  
Daphne turned away to assist Quinlan and Arthur breathed out a sigh of relief. He needed some time to compose himself.  
  
  
_But wait for the nomad._  
  
He should have taken heed. He should have guessed. He should have known…  
  
Should haves should bother older men.  
  
He rested his head on the table and silently watched the clock counting out slivers of eternity in bright green numbers.  
  
The other lights were out in his room. Proctor Quinlan was currently occupying the bedroom, after a decent meal and a shower. The man was showing signs of starvation, making his already sharp, prominent features almost bird-like.  
  
_She'll bring the caged bird with her._  
  
Quinlan told them everything. Rage boiled within him, crashing against the confines of his will like an oceanic wave, threatening to overflow at any second. Left unwatched, unchecked...  
  
_Breathe_.  
  
If he falters now, he will most certainly lose. Not now, not when they are on the cusp of victory.  
  
Reilly was absent from his regular post by the door. Arthur sent his Initiate to check on Ingram and Kells who were still at the Adams Air Force Base.  
  
Check everything. Make sure the Prydwen can fly a little longer without extensive maintenance… just a little bit longer. One more day.  
  
_That bird won't be carrying an olive branch._  
  
He read it in the book that olives used to be some sort of fruit tree, back before the war. It used to be a symbol of peace. He had no idea why though. A tree branch can definitely be used as a weapon.  
  
“Don't get caught. You know too much,” said Arthur to Reilly, reluctantly letting his subordinate go. His Initiate saluted and reached for the door handle.  
  
“Why sir, I'm a total pro at acting naturally under pressure. Or you know, just acting, no pressure needed.”  
  
And with that, he was gone. Actually, now that Arthur stared at the clock again, this time coherently, he's been gone an awfully long time…  
  
A light rap on the door made him jerk up. Not a moment too soon. He jumped up from the chair, finding a laser pistol handle with his fingers. Just in case.  
  
“Finally, what had taken you so…”  
  
The words caught in his throat.  
  
“Oh, was I that obvious?” A bright smile flashed in the dim green light. A Pip-boy was glowing on Daphne's wrist. It looked very much like the one sitting on his desk.  
  
Arthur cleared his throat nervously. The corridor was mostly dark, with only a few periodically flickering lamps by the entrances to the A-ring. Muffled snores were coming out of the barracks.  
  
“Uh, what?”  
  
“Nothing,” she pushed past him into the room and dropped down on the couch. Arthur saw dust particles flying up in the beam of light. He checked the corridor one more time and closed the door with as little sound as possible.  
  
“Why are you here, Daphne?” He asked quietly, his eyes unable to leave her. Like she was a magnet, and he was a steel flake.  
  
She reached out for a bottle of brandy sitting on the shaky table and motioned for him to sit next to her. It felt like he was being physically pulled by the rope towards her, but he managed to stand his ground.  
  
Daphne made a quiet hum, whether of surprise or displeasure or confusion he couldn't tell, not with her face covered in shadows. She put her legs on the table and leaned back, taking a swing straight from the bottle.  
  
“Thought you might want to catch up! We haven't seen each other in… no, don't tell me how many years. I feel old.”  
  
“Seven.”  
  
_Seven years, eight months… twenty-three days._ He was surprised how easily his mind snapped back to the day he walked into her room to find her gone. That day he was just standing there, hurting from the simple act of holding his body upright, empty from the understanding that the last person he had ever loved was gone, with nothing but the silence to comfort him.  
  
Same as he felt when Anna… Anna and Danse both left him. But she had returned, the only person to ever have done so.  
  
_Not anymore._  
  
“‘Catch up?’ Before you leave again?” He asked, trying not to sound bitter. He did not pretend well.  
  
She shrugged.  
  
“Who knows where the road might lead. Heard you were out and about too. I actually came here some time ago, but you were out in the Commonwealth… then you came back, and I was about to pay you a surprise visit, but then you were gone again!”  
  
Even without seeing her face he could tell it by her voice. Could see it in his mind's eye. Her plump lips pouting, her soft brown eyes wide, hurt and upset, brows curving. A face that could melt even a supermutant’s heart.  
  
“Then I presume you know why I left.”  
  
He stepped closer despite himself. He hated to have a conversation without eye contact.  
  
“I did hear about that… the rumor mill was whipped up into a frenzy, you know. Even before you arrived. Everyone wanted to know what she looked like, to catch the eye of the most desirable bachelor of the Capital Wasteland…”  
  
She spoke of Anna in the past tense. His throat felt as if it was full of thorns.  
  
“She is…” and he must too, even with Daphne, “she was… the most incredible person I've ever met. So strong and brave, yet capable of mercy and forgiveness.”  
  
And so was Daphne, too. So was Sarah, when he thought about it.  
  
“She came from a different world. The world before the War. She was a strange creature and said bizarre things at times but…”  
  
He trailed off. He couldn't say that he _loved_ her. The love was still there, within him. It never left.  
  
How strange that once you love someone, you love them forever. It doesn't go away. One doesn't stop loving someone because they were gone, or dead, or because they betrayed or hurt you. It would have been so much easier if it was.  
  
He was many people in his life, growing out of his old self just like a mirelurk would grow out of its old shell. But love persisted, connecting him to his past selves like an anchor.  
  
A wounded little kid who was crying when sent away from his mother had quietly closed his eyes and was buried forever within his soul. A reserved boy was murdered, stricken down by the sight of dead Sarah Lyons. A hopeful youth was crushed under the burden of command. Who was he now? Time will tell.  
  
“You loved her?”  
  
Daphne moved closer to him while he was consumed by thought. He nearly jumped when she was suddenly right next to him, quiet as a shadow.  
  
She smelled sweet, like hubflower and honey cakes. A wave of heat radiated from his stomach, and his ears prickled with a sudden rush of blood.  
  
“I still do,” he replied, as firmly as he could.  
  
“But why her? Why not someone else?” Her voice dropped to a whisper.  
  
“Because…” he heard many brothers and sisters asking the question when they thought no one was listening. Why her? She wasn’t the most beautiful, the most skilled or the most experienced of the order’s sisters. She wasn’t young, was not of this era at all. She shouldn’t have fit in but she did.  
  
“Because she was the hero I had always aspired to be. We both were looking for the same thing, I think. I call it honor. She calls it forgiveness. She showed me the way… but I don’t think I’ve learned. I should have.”  
  
She hummed again, her face thoughtful. Then her lips curved in an elegant bow. He couldn’t stop looking at those lips…  
  
“‘Where must we go, we who wander this wasteland in search of our better selves?’”  
  
“Huh?”  
  
“My mother had a favorite quote, or so my father told me. Eventually, over the years, I picked mine. It comes not from the Bible, but from life experience…”  
  
Light from her Pip-boy made only half of her upturned face visible, but what he did see was threatening to make his heart stop. She was so close.  
  
She was so beautiful. As perfect as the last time he had saw her, before she left, so long ago.  
  
“You’ve changed, Arthur.”  
  
“I noticed,” he deadpanned, feeling his resolve faltering, cracking, falling away in large chunks, just like a derelict building. Was he always this weak willed?  
  
Another smile, and he felt dizzy. Drunk on the sight, on the smell of her. The dark room was swimming.  
  
“Ah, Arthur… _I missed you_.”  
  
This time his heart actually skipped a bit. He looked her in the eyes and forgot to take another breath. Her small hands were on the lapels of his coat and he felt her pulling him closer. She was tiny, the top of her red head barely reaching over his shoulder.  
  
_I shouldn’t… I should… I..._  
  
“What a load of shit was that base! Am I glad you didn’t take us through there, El-”  
  
The light switch was flipped, making Arthur recoil and squeeze his eyes shut. When he opened them, Sidney Reilly was standing in the doorway, his hand still on the switch. That hand twitched ever so slightly as if the Initiate wanted to flip the switch back out and disappear.  
  
“Ever heard of knocking?” He couldn’t help but snarl, angry at Reilly, at Daphne, at traitors… and most of all at himself.  
  
Reilly blinked, his face for once devoid of his now usual shades. Then he grinned.  
  
“Oh, please, don’t stop on my account. Pretend I’m a piece of the furniture, Elder, just like always.”  
  
“I was just leaving,” Daphne crossed the room towards the still opened door. Her gliding walk was unhurried. She smiled at Reilly as she walked out as if they just had a pleasant conversation. As if he didn’t just catch them like some stupid kids.  
  
Reilly closed the door behind her and whistled.  
  
“I doubt even grass had time to grow on your woman’s grave, and you’re all up and about, pollinating the others. Now that’s what I call impressive.”  
  
He was right. The man must think he’s an uncaring asshole, sleeping about the whole time. And… what if he didn’t walk in when he did? Did he have enough willpower to resist his urge to kiss Daphne?  
  
No. He didn’t… he knew that much. What was he doing? What was he thinking? Nothing! His mind was blank, his body was in command. His desire, his decade-long dream. He couldn’t have said no.  
  
He would have betrayed Anna. But he didn’t… fate intervened, in the face of his Initiate.  
  
He simultaneously had the urge to punch Reilly and to hug him. He saved him from doing something very stupid, something he would have regretted doing… and yet he couldn’t help but regret not doing it.  
  
He did love Daphne too. No, that wasn’t right… he loved the ideal image of her, the dream he clung to all those years before Anna walked into his life. Actually, Anna jumped through the window into his life, cloaked in the Shroud costume, showered in glass shards that shone in the moonlight like tiny stars.  
  
The scrap of black cloth on his neck seemed to weigh twenty pounds more than usual.  
  
“No, really, if you want, I’ll call her back. No judgment. But I would have to stay close, to ensure, you know, your safety...”  
  
“Sidney.”  
  
“Hmm?”  
  
“Get out.”  
  
“Yessir.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for my.. what is it, a year-long absence? I am really, really sorry... also, this chapter was not proof-read, unless you count me re-reading it almost a year later and spotting a bunch of grammar errors. It has been a busy year... I can't guarantee I would be able to finish this story, but I will try my very best.
> 
> I hope someone still reads this... or remembers me. I love you all.


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